


Likeness

by Rinedin



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Hand of Thrawn Duology - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Additional Supporting Characters - Freeform, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Star Wars: Vision of the Future, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 17:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19404694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinedin/pseuds/Rinedin
Summary: The New Republic senate is divided, the broken Galactic Empire is on the verge of surrender, and perhaps bringing a clone of the legendary Grand Admiral Thrawn to the heart of Coruscant wasn’t the greatest idea in the galaxy.(An alternate ending to the Star Wars Legends novelVision of the Futureby Timothy Zahn)





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sure hope I've used those tags correctly. Anyway:
> 
> I have been working on this monster of a fic for almost two and a half years now. I started it out of dissatisfaction over the ending to _Star Wars: Vision of the Future_ , so it was made more out of spite than love. As it’s a multi-year project and I am, all things considered, still a baby writer, you may be able to tell which parts I wrote in 2017 and which parts I added within the past few months (spring 2019) due to changes in my writing style. As well, I began this story having never written any of the characters involved before. I’ve edited it to death, but you may be able to detect some of that earlier unfamiliarity.
> 
> My spite ran out with this fic some time ago. Despite that being slightly evident later in the story, I hope it’ll still provide some entertainment. (No constructive criticism please, but I do like typos being pointed out.)
> 
> (Requires knowledge of _Vision of the Future_ and _Specter of the Past_ to properly understand.)

Sometimes, things just don’t happen exactly as the Force wills them.

Blaster bolts slammed into the wall behind them, blowing away fragments of rock and filling the air with dust. They impacted the dead droid with sharp _pings_ , rocking it toward them with every impact. Hunkering behind it, Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker took refuge from the remaining droid firing at them from the walkway opposite. Behind them, partially in the line of fire, Luke’s astromech Artoo-Detoo shrieked mechanical obscenities whenever a bolt grazed him.

“You’ll have to do it, Mara,” Luke said. He was breathing heavily, his blond hair smoking from near-misses. “I won’t be able to get him across.”

Mara grit her teeth and glanced out at the tread-droid. Its beady white mechanical eyes tracked them over the unending salvos it launched their way. She ducked back behind cover before it could connect any of them. She heard the bolts hit its deactivated comrade, glad that the thick cortosis-laced armour so effective at nullifying their attacks worked on its own as well.

She steadied it with her back and looked to Luke. “Sixty metres?”

“I’ll help you, give you what I have left. But you need to do it—I’m too tired.” He grasped her upper arm and closed his eyes.

Mara felt a sensation similar to an inrush of water as he shared his own connection with the Force. She felt every shudder of metal, flash of sparks, hiss of energy, both before and when they happened. It filled her senses, loud and disorienting. She didn’t have time to process it before Luke’s voice filled her mind: _Now_.

Even as they stood she felt that inrush growing weaker. The air around them warped, like waves of heat on a midday dune. Blaster bolts that should have found their mark missed by millimetres. Mara took a breath and reached out with her mind, grabbing that rude little astromech and flinging him over the railing. Artoo shrieked one long, continuous wail as he sailed through the air. Her grip on him vanished as he entered the ysalamiri’s sphere of influence, but his momentum carried him all the way to the far wall where he impacted with a _clang_. For a moment she worried she’d damaged him, but then his dome rotated and his shock attachment extended. With her senses so expanded she heard his twittering as if he were sitting right beside her.

Exhausted, Luke released his grip on her and fell back behind cover. But Mara saw the tread-droid lose its focus on them and turn toward Artoo.

“Hey!” She spread her arms wide, trying to make herself as big and tantalising a target as possible to its little mechanical brain. Knowing it would do nothing but caring little, she ignited her lightsaber and flung it at the droid. It impacted with the briefest flash of sparks before the cortosis interrupted the beam and the hilt scattered away.

It was just enough of a distraction to let Artoo stabilise himself. He activated his booster jets, flinging himself at the tread-droid with a war cry. He hit dead-on with an ear-splitting clang of metal on metal and delivered a jolt straight to the tread-droid’s neck joint. Its eyes flickered, its arms twitched, and its treads jerked it forward. It hit the railing, toppled over, and landed hard on the lower level. The vine trap promptly grabbed it, wrapping around its arms and twining through its treads. Its head, joints weakened by the shock Artoo gave it, flew off and bounced twice before being snared as well.

It had worked. Once again, it had worked. Thank the stars this droid had the same defect as the other. If it hadn’t…

Mara let her shoulders sag with relief. With the barrage of blasterfire silenced all she could hear was the popping of cooling metal, the drip of leaking water, and the disgruntled noises Artoo was making from across the way as he struggled to get upright. She blinked a few times, standing there numbly, as the last vestiges of her expanded sense melted away into the normal human range.

“Good—good job,” Luke wheezed from the floor.

Mara looked down at him. He was smiling up at her—or more accurately, grimacing up at her—bent inward toward where he was clutching his side with one hand.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“One of the bolts got me,” Luke explained, lifting his hand briefly to show the angry burn digging into his side. “I’ll be alright if I go into a healing trance right away.”

“Want me to wake you up or let you go for as long as you want?”

“I’d like it if you woke me up. The phrase ‘welcome back’ should do it. I shouldn’t need more than a few hours.” He stood, wincing, and relocated to the wall, sitting with his back to it.

Mara watched him settle then went over to the railing and looked around. Other than the whirring of the floor trap, hum of the generator, and angry warbling of Artoo as he rocked back and forth on his side, the room was quiet. She scanned and rescanned all available cubbies and surfaces—the walls, the far upper walkway, the cylinder chamber—but nothing else jumped out to get them. Not yet, at least.

She jogged around to where Artoo was struggling, shivering slightly as she passed through the ysalamir bubble. Artoo swivelled his dome to fix his photoreceptor on her and beeped an intentional string of binary. She checked the datapad translation, noting that the screen was slightly cracked: _R2-D2 = horizontal position // horizontal position = unsatisfactory + humiliating // R2-D2 = requests solution as rightful hero of the day_

“That’s cute,” Mara said. She hunkered down and lifted Artoo upright. The cylinder chamber was but a few metres away, and as she got the droid back onto his wheels she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her. Ignoring it, she walked over and retrieved her lightsaber.

Water dripped steadily from dark cracks in the walls, and the floor trap down in the main area whirred as it writhed uselessly. Returned to the proper position, Artoo wasted no time in trundling away. He moved around the balcony’s circumference, perhaps attempting to figure out how to get down there and disable the trap without being snagged. He resorted to using his booster jet to sidle around the trap’s edge. Mara silently wished him luck, but forwent watching him any further; no doubt he would alert her if he encountered any real trouble.

Devoid of threats to hold it, her attention drifted to the Spaarti cylinder in its chamber in the wall. There was something about it that made her not want to look straight at it, some _eeriness_ about its shaded nook. Despite that, she found herself wandering over anyway in her boredom. Placing her hands on her hips she leant back against the railing and examined the enclosure. Behind her she heard a click of finality as the floor trap fell silent; Artoo must have managed to safely navigate the tendrils to the main computer console.

In addition to the cylinder and generator that powered it, there were two ysalamiri lounging placidly on nutrient frames, framing the cylinder on both sides like strange guard dogs. Mara wondered how long they’d been there. Ten years at least, possibly more; she assumed the frames were self-replenishing else they would have run out of food or air and died a long time ago. They didn’t seem to notice her presence, kept on blinking their four small, black eyes. She wondered if they were bored. Could ysalamiri feel boredom?

Mara decided it didn’t matter. She looked to the figure floating within the cylinder itself, curled up as if sleeping, his long blue-black hair haloing his head in gentle waves. There were a truly staggering amount of tiny tubes and patches connected to him, no doubt keeping him alive and healthy as he slept.

She stared, her look quickly turning into a glare.

Logically she should just ignite her lightsaber and end him now, save the galaxy the hassle. Except… Parck and Fel, they had seemed to think there was some kind of invasion coming. They had sold that story so good that no matter how hard she tried she could not dismiss it. As Luke had said, she was spooked. If they were right, if there was something out there, they might actually need his help. Clone or not, it was still Thrawn.

Well, if the cylinder had done its job properly. It didn’t exactly have supervision anymore and Spaarti cylinders weren’t known for being the most robust things in the galaxy. Mara chewed her cheek, debating. She decided to discuss it with Luke before doing anything, as he would put it, rash.

Luke. It was strange. The droids were gone, and yet ever since the heat of that battle and the surge of power they had shared she continued to feel him. Not physically, not even mentally, but he was _there_ somewhere in the Force. Somehow she knew he was in pain, but not in trouble. She could feel the lull of his mind suspended in its Jedi healing trance. There was a connection there, and not all of it seemed to want to fade.

A frantic trilling sounded from below. Jerked out of her thoughts, Mara jogged over and descended the steps. She had been fully ready to extract Artoo from whatever was assailing him, but she reached the main floor to find that everything was completely fine. Artoo swivelled toward her, beeping again in what she now realised was excitement.

He warbled again: _Database = contains the document_

Mara blinked. “What document?”

_Files = contains the Caamas document // Caamas document = intact + original_

Mara felt her breath catch. The Caamas document, the key that had the entire New Republic riled up, and they had found it _here?_ “Can you get it out?”

Artoo beeped an affirmative, rotating his dome back toward the datajack and his work. Feeling a whole lot more alert, Mara waited impatiently for him to finish.

After what felt like hours Artoo announced his successful retrieval of the document and added somewhat smugly that he had successfully disabled the main room’s security. He did, less smugly, also announce that she should refrain from attempting to access the cylinder chamber, as he had not yet finished deciphering that particular system.

“Fine with me,” Mara said. She’d already decided not to mess with that just yet. “Just keep that document safe.”

The droid twittered that he would do his best, and then returned to rooting around in the databank. Mara hoped that whatever he was doing wasn’t going to alert the building above. She’d hate to have the entire Hand of Thrawn come crashing down on top of them—if they weren’t still busy squawking about their precious hangar, that is.

Trying not to think too hard on it, she returned to her vigil.

* * *

Three hours later, as promised, Mara woke Luke up.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked. Artoo had returned to the upper level for the occasion, and she very nearly tripped over him as he rolled past her.

Luke stretched a few muscles, wincing at the movement. Mara could relate. “Like a speeder wreck,” he said. “But I can move. My life isn’t in danger.”

“Good to know.” She helped him to his feet. “Incidentally, while you were out we found something I think you’ll like.”

“Oh?”

Mara nodded once toward Artoo. The droid promptly beeped out the news.

“The Caamas document?” Luke said, his attention focused on Artoo like a beam. “Thrawn had the full thing hidden away here? We have to get it to Coruscant right away; President Gavrisom needs to see this.”

“What about that?” Mara gestured to the Spaarti cylinder. “Are we just going to leave it here, or do we destroy it? You know we can’t lug that whole thing all the way back to the ship.”

Some of Luke’s jubilance faded into thought. “We can’t destroy it. Like I said, he doesn’t deserve death just because of the actions of the original Thrawn.”

“We also can’t leave him to the Hand,” Mara pointed out. “And if you recall, Spaarti cylinders are very much capable of imprinting memories.”

“Very true...” He paused, one finger resting on his lower lip as he thought. “I wonder… Hey Artoo? Think you can get into the cylinder’s systems?”

Artoo explained, sounding mildly exasperated, that that was what he had been trying to do for the past two hours, and then confirmed he had not yet found a safe way to do so.

“So try the unsafe way,” Mara suggested. Artoo confirmed reluctantly that he could, in theory, simply crash his way into the system, but warned them again of the danger.

“We’re out of options, I’m afraid,” Luke said. “Go on, buddy.”

With a whistle and a reminder not to blame him when things went wrong, Artoo rolled over to the bannister and lowered himself to the main floor with his booster jets. Landing with a hollow _thunk_ , he rolled up to the terminal and got to work. Luke and Mara waited, hands tense on their weapons, for the inevitable outburst of alarms or flood of droids.

It never came.

Finally, with a whirr, Artoo announced that he was in. “Good work!” Luke congratulated him, limping down the steps and over to the console. Leaning over the droid, he examined the display for a few moments, then grunted.

“What?” Mara asked. “What’d he find?”

“It’s set to finish in one month, standard time I assume. We really got here just in time.”

“We can’t wait around here for a month while the New Republic collapses in on itself. Can you speed it up any?”

“Maybe. We’d need to get through the safeguards first, though. Artoo’s still working on that,” Luke said. Artoo twiddled something. “He says it might take him a few more days. After that, well, if the clone’s mature we should be able to wake him up immediately. If not, we’ll either have to wait longer or risk damaging him.”

Mara nodded tightly. She didn’t like the concept of lingering here too long, but damaging the clone would defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place. If they wanted to present this whole crazy case to Coruscant it wouldn’t do to have some bumbling, possibly insane fool along with them.

But that was just an assumption on her part. “Hey Skywalker. Out of curiosity, and assuming we can get him—” she nodded to the cylinder, “—out safely and in time, what are we going to do with him?”

“Take him to Coruscant, I suppose.”

“I bet they’ll love that. We’re really considering recruiting him as an ally, I take it?”

Luke pursed his lips. “It’s… not something I’d consider normally. But if what Parck and Fel said is even vaguely true, the galaxy will need every brilliant mind it can get. I’m willing to bet Thrawn knows it. And hey, maybe this one’ll be different.”

“Feel free to keep hoping that.” Secretly Mara was glad he had been having the same thoughts as her. “What if he refuses to come?”

“Then we’ll have to make him. We have no other choice, unfortunately.”

“Right.” She could see that going _great_. “If we’re staying for a few more days, one of us should tell the Qom Qae and see about lifting supplies from the ships.”

“We’re definitely staying in here, are we?”

“You want to go back and forth through caves and risk becoming lunch for a bunch of fire creepers? Staying in here means we’ll get to keep an eye on the machinery, just in case tricky old red-eyes left some more surprises we don’t know about.” She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on the tarp-covered furniture. “And besides, with some work this place might not be too bad.”

“Point.” Luke straightened up with a grunt. “Do you want to go tell them or should I?”

“I’ll go. In your state you wouldn’t make it halfway through that tunnel.” Mara ran a brief check to make sure all her weapons were in place, and then turned to leave. With the harsher movement she found that her own lingering aches gave her a slight limp, to her eternal annoyance.

If Luke noticed he had the good grace not to mention it. “Be careful,” he called to her as she left.

A few days were fine, nobody would miss them. Even the shaky New Republic couldn’t collapse in on itself that fast.

* * *

As it turned out, those few days felt a lot longer than Mara expected them to.

Child Of Winds and the other Qom Qae had stopped lingering and returned to their nesting at Mara’s urging, and they had heard nothing from either the Qom Qae or the Qom Jha since. Both nestings had either taken their advice and avoided the Hand of Thrawn’s wrath, or had otherwise been destroyed by the Chiss in their search for intruders. With a generous application of luck, she hoped for the former.

Mara herself was about ready to climb the walls—or would be, had she not already done so several times. And looked over all the machinery. And arranged the furniture. And examined the exact depth of the water damage—it was reaching critical levels. A tiny tap, she was sure, and the whole place could flood. Honestly she didn’t know how Luke managed it. Blasted Jedi calm…

“I really am trying hard,” Luke said from his position cross-legged on one of the padded sofas they’d set up. His eyes were closed, but Mara got the feeling that he was tracking her through the Force. “It’s not easy. I know what you think about the Yavin academy, and that’s fair, but if you swing by sometime I can teach you a few exercises…?”

“Find a new base of operations and I’ll consider it. Right now, I’m good thanks,” Mara said.

“I just might, you know. But okay.” There was a pause in which she resumed her pacing. “But if it’s any consolation Artoo thinks we’ll likely be out of here soon. Less than a day and he’ll be in, he says.”

Suddenly Mara wasn’t feeling quite as impatient. “Can you be more specific? How much less?”

“No clue. Artoo?”

The droid twittered: _R2-D2 = running calculation // Luke + Mara = stand by_

It took him a handful of minutes. After the calculation Artoo announced: _Estimated earliest time = six standard hours + thirty standard minutes // Spaarti cylinder computer safeguards = resist R2-D2’s inquiries // code = will take time to subvert_

“Better hop to it then,” Mara said. She had stalled in her pacing and did not feel like resuming. After a moment of internal debate, she gave up and went to sit down by Luke. He cracked an eye open inquisitively.

“Still feeling jumpy?” he asked. “I can walk you through some of those meditation techniques now, if you’d like?”

Mara gave him her best _what, really?_ look, complete with a raised eyebrow for effect. Luke merely held out a hand, palm up, and wiggled his fingers. She rolled her eyes. “Alright fine.”

She took the proffered hand, and as she did so she heard Luke’s voice in her mind: _Follow me._

_Yeah, sure_ , she thought back, but responded to his prompting nonetheless. It was a bit strange, having her connection drop away from the waking world like that, and it was certainly nothing like the healing trance she had gone into before. But it wasn’t _unpleasant_ , per se. In that hazy half-reality, Luke’s disembodied voice walked her through the steps of calming her mind.

* * *

It was the incessant beeping that brought both of them out of their trance. The sound got even louder as Mara surfaced, and her first impression was that it must be some kind of alarm. She was already scrambling for her blaster when she realised that it was not, in fact, an alarm, and was instead Artoo-Detoo, shrieking at them in exasperation. He bumped his cylindrical metal form bodily into her leg and looked to be a few seconds away from extending his shock attachment.

“Alright, alright, we’re here. Stop that!” Mara snapped. She gave her head a little shake to clear the last of the fogginess.

Artoo whirred almost sulkily: _You two = lazy // R2-D2 = has full access to Spaarti cylinder systems // clone = ready for extraction one standard hour ago // R2-D2 = attempting to reach you_

“Okay, sorry buddy. I was just showing Mara the ropes. We’re here now.” Luke unfolded himself and gave his back a stretch.

Mara frowned. “Did you just say one hour ago? We’ve been sitting here for _seven and a half hours?_ ”

Artoo twittered an affirmative. Mara found she didn’t have a response to that. ‘The ropes,’ her afterburners. Her back muscles were tighter than durasteel, and as she shifted position she found she couldn’t feel the toes of her right foot. She had to stop doing things like this.

“Is everything ready?” Luke asked. He was either not in a similar situation, or hiding it well. Artoo’s second affirmative and whirred response had an offended edge to it. “No need for that, I was just asking. Of course you’ve got it handled.”

This was it, then. For all his careful calm, Luke’s sense was just as tense as Mara’s. Perhaps he too was having second thoughts. “We should be prepared to get out of here real quick,” Mara said, drawing her blaster and flicking it to stun. “Just in case it’s set to alert the Hand.”

“That’d ruin his dramatic entrance,” Luke pointed out drily.

Artoo whirred at them, perhaps reprimanding them for the chatter. His datajack was extended, and Mara could only guess what he was fiddling around with inside the console.

Mara and Luke took up positions on either side of the transparisteel wall, careful to stand just outside the ysalamiri’s Force-repelling bubbles. Listening, Mara could hear that whatever force drove the machinery, perhaps the cylinder itself, seemed to have sped up. Whatever Artoo was doing was definitely having an effect.

Mara could feel Luke’s amusement through the Force. She turned her head to glare at him. “What’s so funny?”

He gestured to her blaster. “If you don’t relax you’re going to crush that thing.”

“Well sorry for being concerned,” Mara grumbled, willing her fingers to relax their grip a little.

“Actually, you might want to put it away altogether,” Luke said, contemplative. “We’re here to make friends. Pointing an armed blaster at him might not be the best way to go about it.”

She lowered her blaster a foot and no farther. “I want it ready in case he tries anything. Besides, it’s set to stun.”

Luke bowed his head and spread his arms in surrender. “Alright.”

Beside them, the cylinder had finished cycling. The pale fluid had drained away and the deceptively tangled lengths of tubing had un-tangled themselves and retracted somewhere into the ceiling, most likely an in-built storage compartment or similar space. A panel closed off the very bottom section, and the cylinder itself lowered so that it was even with the floor. Mara was impressed with how smoothly the whole thing operated; clearly, Thrawn had modified this one to be more efficient than the ones stored in Mount Tantiss.

The clone, now devoid of support, had been left slumped in a pile at its base. “How do we—never mind,” Mara cut herself off, watching as the cylinder’s sides split into two sections and rotated out of the way. A second later the transparisteel wall followed, retracting smoothly into the stone. She crinkled her nose at the strong antiseptic scent drifting from the open chamber.

Suddenly left without a wall to lean on the clone had slumped onto his side on the ground. Briefly, Mara wondered if they had accidentally killed him. But no, she could see that he was breathing; erratically, somewhat rapidly, but he was alive.

Mara opened her mouth, but Luke beat her to it. “Hello? My name is Luke Skywalker, can you hear me?”

The clone did not respond. His red eyes were open now, glowing starkly in the gloom, but they didn’t seem to be staring at anything in particular. Perhaps they weren’t even focused at all, it was hard to tell.

“Maybe your droid messed up,” Mara suggested. “It’s not like he knows what he’s doing.”

From down by the console Artoo gave a loud, indignant warble, perhaps reminding them that _they_ were the ones that decided on this course of action.

“He knows what he’s doing fine, right Artoo?” Luke asked. The droid beeped a firm positive.

Mara looked back down at the clone. He had only moved a little, having placed a palm flat on the ground. She couldn’t begin to guess what he was trying to do, and couldn’t imagine what he must be thinking. Assuming he was, in fact, thinking. She wasn’t sure if she should render aid or not. She certainly didn’t _want_ to.

Evidently Luke was having the same feeling. So they simply watched as the clone ran a single finger across the smoothed stone floor and furrowed his brow. “Such beautiful creatures,” he said, slurring slightly, and for a confusing moment Mara thought he was talking about them. But then he continued, “Unique, perhaps, in all the galaxy. To repel the Force…”

He was looking at the ysalamiri. The creatures had been agitated, as much as they _could_ be agitated, by the sudden commotion in their home, flicking the tips of their long tails and twisting their ears.

“Hello?” Luke repeated. “Can you hear me?”

“Ssssh,” was the clone’s response—which was an improvement, though not what Luke was looking for. He retrieved his hand from where it was pressed against the floor and held it closer to his chest.

“I don’t think he’s alright,” Mara said.

“He’s just woken up,” Luke replied, “practically just been born. We might want to give him a few minutes.”

“Then stop bugging him.”

“ _Ssssh!_ ” They both startled at the sound. It was sharp, almost a _hiss_. The clone had abruptly pushed himself onto his hands and knees, his dark hair sticking to his shoulders and back and dangling in thin strands toward the floor. He repeated the sound, softer this time.

Luke looked to Mara. In her mind she heard his voice: _stopping now_.

Mara thought back, _what do you think, should we help him?_

Luke shook his head. _I don’t think he’d appreciate being touched, but we could offer him a robe or something…_

Mara made a face. _And perhaps a shower_.

_Do we have one of those?_

_S_ he shrugged. Smiling mischievously, she sent him a somewhat crude image of the clone falling into the lake outside. Luke tried and failed to suppress a snort.

Mara saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to watch as the clone used the wall to haul himself unsteadily to his feet. His fingers curled around the edge of the cubby, his breaths coming more evenly now as he turned his head to take in the room.

Luke slunk away. There was a thump, a crash, a warble from Artoo, and he returned a minute later with a black robe slung over one arm. Stepping into the ysalamir bubble, he offered it to the clone.

He blinked and looked down at the offering. He reached one hand halfway out, paused, and then took it, holding it somewhat like a large, heavy handkerchief. “You put it on,” Luke supplied.

The clone did so, drawing it around himself like a blanket. He still looked unfocused. “You… You are Luke Skywalker,” he said, speaking slowly. Then he looked to Mara. “…And you are Mara Jade. I... I am…”

He looked down, debating that question.

Mara gripped her blaster a little harder as the clone looked back up at them with a new intensity, frankly glaring between them. “You have awakened me too early, it’s not time yet.”

“Cool your jets we’ve only chopped a month off. You still had almost ten years in there,” Mara said. She looked to the blaster in her hand, only now realising she had raised it. Somewhat hesitantly, she pointed it back at the floor.

The clone curled his fingers into the fabric of his robe, holding it steady at his shoulder. His fogginess seemed to be rapidly dissipating, revealing the deadly glint in his eyes. When he spoke, however, he projected nothing but curiosity. “Why go through all the trouble to wake me when you could simply kill me?” He nodded to the lightsaber at Luke’s hip. “Are we not enemies?”

“Things have changed,” Luke said. “Believe it or not, we actually need your help.”

“And what makes you think you’ll get it?”

“We…” He paused, abruptly aware of the power imbalance, and then started again, “I can explain the situation, but perhaps we should find somewhere better to do it. We—” he gave Mara a pointed look, “—have no desire to threaten you.”

The clone actually smiled at that. “Not to fear, Skywalker.”

Luke motioned toward the stack of metal crates across the way. “The supplies are over there.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to let him at all of it?” Mara asked, not caring that she was saying the words aloud.

“Probably not,” Luke admitted. “But I’m sure he’d appreciate something to wear. You can guard him the whole time, if you really want to.”

“Not particularly...” Mara glared at the floor, debating. They’d looked though all those crates thoroughly, there wasn’t much that he could possibly use against them. And even if he did find something they’d overlooked it’s not like the ysalamiri’s influence covered the whole room; they’d have warning. “Alright I won’t. But if he tries anything he’s getting a stun bolt to the chest.” She waved her blaster to reinforce the point.

The clone, who until now had been passively observing the conversation, said, “Of course. I would expect nothing less.”

* * *

“—if we even have a ship to go back to.” Mara leaned back on her crate, one leg dangling lazily over the side, her blaster resting within easy grabbing distance on the metal by her hand. “Who’s to say the Hand hasn’t found it yet? Or that the Qom Qae haven’t given it up?”

Luke was sitting cross-legged opposite her on his usual sofa. He had a datapad in his lap, idly sifting through some of the information they’d pulled from Thrawn’s databanks. He shook his head. “I don’t believe they’d do that.”

“Is that your farmboy innocence speaking? If they’re pushed hard enough the Qom Qae might give up all our ships just so they’ll be left alone. Anyone would.”

Luke flipped to the next page. “Except that it might not matter what they do. If the Chiss consider them a big enough annoyance they’ll be hunted down just for that. They think they’re just beasts, remember.”

“Then we’d better hope the Qom Qae are smart enough to realise that,” Mara said. “Because there’s no way we’ll be able to get anywhere near that hangar—or whatever’s left of it. If the Hand summons offworld backup it sure won’t be of any use to us.”

“You certainly did a number on them. But we’ve gotten into the fortress undetected before. We might be able to do it again, even with tighter security.”

“Tighter security won’t even begin to describe it. These guys are part Empire, remember? _Thrawn’s_ Empire. So unless you fancy another shooting match we’ll just have to—what are _you_ looking at?” Mara cut herself off, glaring up the steps to where the clone was standing, watching them.

He was dressed in a simple light grey outfit that bore an incredible resemblance to the signature white uniform of a grand admiral, with pants tucked into tall black boots and a thick belt around his waist. No gloves, no adornments or pockets, yet at passing glance he still managed to be a facsimile of the original Thrawn. The only thing that broke the illusion was the length of his hair, swept back over his shoulders. Mara wondered how long he’d been standing there.

Thrawn—for it was clear that the cylinder had done its job well—waved an arm to encompass the lower area. “You seemed busy. I did not wish to intrude.”

_Especially when you’re busy eavesdropping_ , Mara thought. She closed her hand around the grip of her blaster. “I’d rather you did. The faster we can get off this rock the better.”

“Interesting. There is something or somewhere you are eager to return to?”

Mara rolled her eyes. “No I just really hate Nirauan,” she said, pleased to hear that her sarcasm registered loud and clear. “ _Yes_ we’re eager to get back to the New Republic, but that’s all you’re getting from me. We’re not here to talk about them.”

“I think otherwise,” Thrawn countered. He started down the steps, talking as he went. “I think we will speak of them a great deal. That is, if you want me to listen to your proposition.” He raised a blue-black eyebrow at Luke.

Luke’s expression remained bland. “You want to know about the New Republic?”

“The New Republic, the Empire, whatever powers that have risen within the last ten years. When I know of them I’ll make a decision, but only then…” He trailed off, stopping short at the bottom of the steps. Artoo had rolled out right in front of him, beeping warningly, forcing Thrawn to stop lest he trip over him. A bright green beam emitted from somewhere within the astromech’s dome, scanning him head to toe then back again.

Artoo swivelled toward Luke and whirred: _Organic = unarmed_

“Alright, Artoo.” Luke beckoned to the droid. Artoo let out a little mechanical huff then reversed to Luke’s side. “We can’t tell you everything,” Luke continued, “but we can tell you some things. If we do, will that be acceptable?”

“That depends.”

Luke finally shut down the datapad and returned it to his satchel. “Look, we know about the invasion. Your friends upstairs told us, and they seemed convinced enough that we’re willing to accept that maybe it’s true. We’re here for your _help_.”

“I think you came to Nirauan for an entirely different reason. This was an accident, or you would not have come alone.” Thrawn paused, studying them. “But that reason has changed. Make your offer.”

“We ask that you return with us to Coruscant so we can discuss this threat with the New Republic. That’s all.”

Thrawn’s glowing red eyes narrowed. “And if I refuse your offer I’ll be going with you anyway?”

“Ah.” Clearly, Luke saw the futility of lying. “Yes.”

“I thought so. I will go with you willingly, but only if you tell me about the state of the galaxy. If not, we will not be able to come to an agreement.”

_It would certainly be a shame if we had to_ _drag you back by the scruff of your neck_ , Mara thought. She glanced at Luke; he had that _look_. Mara caught his eye and gave her head an almost imperceptible shake. _Risky, too risky_ , she thought at him.

In her mind she heard his response, _we have no choice, I’m afraid_.

“All right,” he said. Mara groaned quietly. “What do you want to know?”

Thrawn took a seat on one of the lowermost steps. “Tell me of the Empire.”

“You might not want to hear this, but it’s dying. Last I heard they hold eight Outer Rim sectors, run by the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet and a council of moffs,” Luke said. “Many think they’re still there only because the New Republic has been too busy fighting amongst itself to focus on them.”

“And the New Republic?”

“It’s… shaky. Things have come up and there’s been some division as of late, but we’re still here, and still stronger than before. President Ponc Gavrisom is the current Chief of State, with the senate composed of over a hundred different star systems.”

Thrawn smiled at him, but it was a cold smile. “If everything is as you say, then this division must be far worse than you want me to think it is. Perhaps bad enough that your New Republic will not survive after all…?”

Luke could not supress a grimace. Mara shared the sentiment. “Some think so,” he allowed. “But our return and the solution we’ve discovered will help rectify some of it. Even the most vocal senators know that the New Republic is better than anarchy—or the Empire.”

Thrawn stared hard at him, perhaps searching Luke’s face for the answers he was not saying aloud. For a long moment he did not speak.

“I am beginning to see that my current plan is… outdated,” he began slowly. “But I have one last question for you. You intend to bring me to Coruscant, but how do you think they will react if you do so unannounced?”

It was a question they had both already given plenty of thought to. “Not well. But there have been rumours of your return already, so it won’t be as much of a bombshell. Who knows, they might even expect it at this point,” Luke said. Then he added, “Besides it’s not like we have a choice anymore.”

“Of course you have a choice, but I imagine it’s not one Mara Jade here would ever allow.”

“If you mean letting you return to the Hand, you’re one hundred percent right,” Mara said. She had slipped her other leg off the edge of the crate, her armed blaster now resting in her lap.

“It’s a pity you refuse to see what they could do for you.”

“Yeah, stomping us into the mud would be _really_ helpful. You’re probably not aware, but they don’t like us very much anymore.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Pretty certain,” Mara said, not certain at all. After all, Parck had seemed willing enough to ignore past differences. Even with his docking bay in flames and his starfighters destroyed, he may still be. But she wasn’t going to admit that.

Thrawn did not look pleased. Luke stepped in quickly and said, “Look, just come with us to Coruscant. Talk to the senate or even just President Gavrisom, we’ll back you up, and then we can all go our separate ways. Please?”

Mara stared at him, not sure if she’d heard that last bit right.

The red gaze shifted to him. “Very well…” Thrawn said. “I will do what you ask. If your New Republic proves it has the strength the galaxy needs, I may consider working with it. However,” he leaned forward, “if I deem it unsuitable I will have your promise that you will not keep me there. You will have two standard weeks and you will release me, whatever the outcome.”

Luke placed a hand in the middle of his chest. “I promise.” When she didn’t respond, he looked to Mara pleadingly.

_Ugh_. Mara turned her head away. “Alright. Fine. If that’s what it takes,” she grumbled.

Thrawn stood up. “Very good.” He swept a hand toward the exit.

Mara couldn’t help but feel like he had agreed too easily. The fact that he hadn’t attempted to bargain further made her incredibly suspicious, and she secretly vowed to keep an even closer eye on him. “Let’s not waste any more time here,” she said, sliding from her box. Luke, similarly, got to his feet. “And I don’t know about you but I’d love to get back to civilization.”

“Are we exiting through the fire creeper tunnels?” Luke asked.

“We might have to. The only other options are to either ascend into the fortress or make our way back to the Qom Jha nesting. Problem is we don’t know when the last migration happened.”

“And being caught by one of those swarms would be an unfortunate end,” Luke finished for her.

“The fortress is a no-go, and the Qom Jha’s tunnels will take too long without a guide, so I guess we’ll just have to double time it and hope we don’t get eaten.”

“Lovely.”

Mara made one final sweep of the room, determining quickly that there was nothing else in here they needed. Luke and Artoo took point, and she took a few steps back, blaster in hand, and motioned pointedly for Thrawn to walk in between them. She wanted him where she could see him. Surprisingly, he moved into position without complaint.

The connor nets had been reset since they’d last passed through. With quick toss of his lightsaber Luke disarmed them, sending them to the floor in a sad pile to await the repair droids yet again. From a safe distance, Thrawn watched attentively.

After that it was a fast and uncomfortable trip through the low caverns back to the tunnel entrance. They stood there, gazing up the steep, smooth slope to where the pale blue-green sky could be seen through the crack above.

“What do you think? Jumpable?” Luke asked, turning to look at Mara.

“You’re the Jedi Master, you tell me.”

Luke shifted into a wider stance, judging the distance. Mara was somewhat surprised to find that she could feel the Force around him as he gathered it beneath his feet and leapt. One bound took him halfway up, where he clung briefly to an outcropping on the wall. Pushing off, his next jump deposited him at the top. Mara saw him glance around, then look back down at them.

Thrawn was examining the slope and walls with a critical eye. Whatever he was thinking, Luke seemed to be thinking it too for he called down, “Don’t worry, I’ll lift you up.”

There was a pause. “Very well,” Thrawn said finally with an undertone that suggested he didn’t find it _very well_ at all. But they had no choice, and he knew it.

Apparently determined to go first, Artoo twittered and extended his rocket nozzle. A wave of hot air washed over their feet as he blasted off with his booster jet, landing neatly beside Luke. Once the smoke had cleared Luke reached out with the Force, grasping Thrawn firmly in a telekinetic grip, drawing him up through the tunnel and setting him down gently on the ground beside him. Thrawn immediately stepped to the side to give Mara space to arrive—a movement that would have been thoughtful had it not put him halfway behind the rock face, in partial cover of her blaster.

It took Mara three jumps to reach the top. She leapt for the wall, grabbed, leapt, and did it again until she was standing with the others. She gave Thrawn a pointed look, which he returned coolly.

Looking out over the lake, it was clear to Luke that the Qom Qae had been right: the Lake of Small Fish had indeed been expanding—rapidly. They stood on a small outcropping of rock raised slightly above the edge of cold water, which had expanded forward in their absence to brush the cliff face. From where they were, there was no way to walk around it.

“Too bad the Qom Qae aren’t here,” Luke mused. “We may end up having to swim across.”

“At least the ship’s not too far away, even if we are going to be soaked. It’s not like our grand trek on Way—” She cut herself off with a light cough.

“Yeah, imagine making that one while wet,” Luke said, somewhat awkwardly. He resisted shooting a glance over his shoulder.

Artoo buzzed, vibrating slightly. His singular photoreceptor was fixed on the deep, murky water, watching as it rippled gently in the breeze. He beeped again: _Water = deep + muddy // R2-D2 = not equipped for aquatic mobility + may get stuck_

“Ah, that’s a problem,” Luke said, furrowing his brow. “Working together we might be able to lift you across. Mara?”

She squinted. “I don’t know. The shore looks awfully far away… It might be a flight again.”

“There is another option,” Thrawn spoke up from behind them. He gestured with one hand toward the rock face rising up on both sides of them. “The rocks are climbable.”

Luke took another look at them. Indeed, he could see several spots where the sheer plane crumpled into handholds; sharp and rough, but handholds nonetheless. “It could work. If we take turns levitating Artoo we could make it across safely and stay dry in the process,” Luke said. It would take some concentration, but it was possible. He raised an eyebrow at Mara. “If you’re up for it?”

“I’ll try not to drop him,” she said dryly. Artoo warbled his misgivings.

Luke examined the closest patch of rocks and, locating a suitable starting point, eased from the safety of their rocky patch. There was a moment of uncertainty, but his chosen handholds held his weight, the stone biting into his palms as he held himself there. “Seems fine.”

“If we fall in you owe me ten credits,” Mara warned as she climbed on after him.

Slowly, they made their way across. It wasn’t easy to keep his focus on lifting Artoo with the rocks jabbing painfully into his hands, but he and Mara managed to keep the droid aloft well enough. Luke was surprised at how easy it was to channel his power through her, helping bolster her focus when he felt it wavering.

Artoo, for his part, kept his photoreceptor locked on Thrawn as he followed along behind them. Occasionally the droid would beep a concern when he dipped dangerously close to the dark ripples, but for the most part he seemed too frightened to speak.

Eventually they made it to the other side, landing feet and wheels once again on the shore of the lake. The mud-soaked grass was soft beneath Luke’s boots as he examined the dents and cuts on his hands from where the rocks had been especially unforgiving. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Thrawn drop to the ground from his own rocky perch. He knew it was undiplomatic, but Luke couldn’t help but be surprised that the man hadn’t attempted to sabotage them somehow.

The edge of the lake gave way quickly into forest. The trees and dirt and underbrush were still wet from recent rain, the clouds from which it had fallen lurking dark on the horizon. The hushed drip of water sounded occasionally from somewhere within the gloom. Likely, that rain was what had pushed the Lake of Small Fish to the edge of the cavern; Luke was thankful it had not been pushed any farther. Artoo whirred something about mud in his wheels.

“Yeah, join the club,” Mara said, giving the little droid a bump with her foot. “We’ll all be out of here soon enough.”

Luke squinted over the treetops, attempting to pinpoint the location of their stolen vessel among the distant crags. “I believe it’s that way,” he said, pointing to one of the deeper gouges. Artoo, with the binary equivalent to a huff, promptly rolled away into the thick underbrush in the rough direction he was pointing. “Artoo! Wait, no Artoo we should— _Artoo!_ ” He had no choice but to dash in after the droid, who had all but disappeared among the leaves.

Back by the lake, Mara gestured pointedly with her blaster for Thrawn to go first, and then took up the rear.

* * *

By flight, the trip to the lake took a mere fifteen minutes. In reverse and on foot, however, it took nearly an hour of solid walking—or more accurately slogging—before the crevasse that hid their stolen vessel was in sight. High above, the first stars winked down at them as Nirauan cycled into night.

Once they reached it, it was a simple matter of climbing up into the fissure itself. The climb posed little challenge, even for Thrawn, who Luke wouldn’t expect to have much knowledge of such things, nor be so good at them so soon after being pulled from a cloning tank. It was just another surprise in a week full of them, he thought wearily. What he wouldn’t give for a cup of hot chocolate right now…

By some stroke of luck their ship was still there, waiting, albeit farther in than Luke remembered parking it.

They were halfway to it when the Qom Qae descended.

They landed on branches or outcroppings or simply hovered there, shriek-muttering. Even though they were speaking too low and too fast for him to catch, the general aura of agitation and nervousness told him everything he needed to know. One of the Qom Qae settled on the ground quite close to his feet. It took Luke a moment to recognise who it was.

Child Of Winds ruffled his wings and hopped a little closer. _You have returned, Jedi Sky Walker, but why have you brought a Threatener with you?_ He chirped. _I am glad to see you and Mara Jade safe, but our Bargainer approaches. He is not pleased._

“Your Bargainer has nothing to worry about,” Luke soothed. “And thank you for the warning.”

The crowd of fluttering Qom Qae parted, and down through it flew the Bargainer. Hunter Of Winds stopped a few metres ahead and above them, his alien sense bristling. _You threaten our nesting! Explain why you have brought a Threatener into our midst and then leave immediately! Your presence betrays us. You are welcome here no longer._

“We mean you no harm, I assure you,” Luke said, showing his palms. “The Threateners don’t know we’ve come here. All we want is to return to our ship and we will leave Nirauan in peace. I promise.”

_And what of the Threatener you have brought with you?_ Hunter Of Winds demanded. _How can you assure us that it has not already alerted its kin?_

Luke looked to Thrawn. He was examining the surrounding chaos with great interest. “We’ve been watching him very closely. He couldn’t have,” Luke said. He tried to sound as firm as possible, but the question had planted the smallest seed of doubt. _Couldn’t_ he have? It was entirely possible that Thrawn had some way of communicating silently. After all, they knew very little about Chiss technology.

Hunter Of Winds was silent for a moment. _You have been a friend to the Qom Qae, so I will take your assurances in good faith. But you must leave. Now. Your presence places us all in grave danger. The Qom Jha are generous to release you from their debt._

“Like I said we have no intention of harming your nesting, and we are very grateful to you and the Qom Jha for your generosity.” Luke looked down at Child Of Winds, suddenly thoughtful. “But before we leave I have a request.”

_We have already given you much_ , Hunter Of Winds reminded him.

“I simply request that you give Child Of Winds his own name. He has shown great bravery, and I believe he has earned it.” Beside him, Child Of Winds gave a startled chirp.

_Oh? And what name would you suggest for him?_

“Friend Of Jedi.”

_You speak reason. I will consider it._

_Thank you, Jedi Sky Walker. Mara Jade. I won’t forget you_ , Child Of Winds said. He fluttered up to land on an outcropping higher up.

“Stay safe. And goodbye,” Luke said. He nodded respectfully to Hunter Of Winds.

The Qom Qae allowed them to pass. A few stayed to watch their advance down the crevasse, the rest flying away into the night or into fissures and nooks. Hunter Of Winds lingered too, following behind them a respectful distance away.

“Fine little pests,” Mara said, a strange hint of affection in her voice. “We’d probably be dead without them.”

“Too bad there wasn’t much we could do for them. At least they know now to stay away from the Hand,” Luke said.

A small group of Qom Qae escorted them to their ship. The ladder was still down, but the vessel itself was, as far as they could tell, sealed tight. One of the Qom Qae landed atop it, hopping forward to look down at them inquisitively.

Luke looked back to find that Thrawn had not followed them all the way to the ship, and was instead lingering some distance back, observing the Qom Qae in their nooks. To him, Mara called, “Hey! We have a schedule to keep. Are you coming?”

Thrawn looked to her, and in the dusk gloom the red glow of his eyes was even more pronounced. He walked briskly over. “These creatures… they are fascinating,” he said, taking another look around. “They spoke with you telepathically. I had not realised they were sentient.”

“Guess you don’t know everything after all,” Mara said, planting one boot on the ladder’s first rung.

“Of course not, Mara Jade. But I can aspire.”

“They call themselves the Qom Qae,” Luke explained. “And they’re only one group of Qom in this area. They don’t appreciate being harassed by the Hand.”

“The Hand does not realise what they are. Until now, neither did I,” Thrawn said. “Such interesting creatures bear further investigation. If allowed, I could tell the Hand to stand down.”

“We are _not_ falling for that. And you’re not going to be doing any such ‘investigating.’ We made a promise to leave them alone.” Mara jerked her head toward the vessel’s entrance. “Now hop in, we have a system to vacate.”

“…Very well.”

The interior of the ship was small, but fit the four of them well enough. As she had the most experience with the vessel, Mara slid herself into the pilot’s seat and began examining the controls. From his droid socket in the back, Artoo whistled mournfully.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Artoo,” Luke reassured him from his spot halfway into the front, one hand on the divider for support. “It’ll take them some time to find useable fighters to follow us after that scorching we gave them, and by then we’ll be long gone.”

A rumble permeated the deck beneath his feet as Mara fired up the repulsors. Unsteadily the vessel rose up a few metres, shedding the branches and pebbles that had accumulated on its top in a cascade of detritus. Mara eased it out of hiding, its four sleek wings pointing out ahead of it like the nose of a predator from its den. Seeing no danger on the horizon it broke free, soaring forward a distance before banking sharply and bolting for high atmosphere. “This thing can really manoeuvre,” she commented. “Sublights need some work, though.”

Luke kept his senses alert as Nirauan fell away behind them, half expecting the Hand to open fire on them or a flood of starfighters to burst from the crags in pursuit. But he could sense no danger and as they breached the atmosphere fully into the void of space he relaxed a little. Perhaps they really did have no fighters left. Perhaps they would not become space dust after all.

“Calculating jump,” Mara reported, busy fiddling with the alien ship’s controls.

Luke appealed to the Force for guidance as the stars grew into starlines and blurred into the endless tunnel of hyperspace. They had the Caamas document, they had—he shot a glance over his shoulder at where Thrawn was sitting on one of the rear seats— _dubious_ help.

He just hoped they weren’t too late.


	2. Part 2

_One Week Later…_

In completely technical terms, Coruscant was a mess.

It took them over an hour just to get through to ground control, and another half to secure a spot to land. From what Luke could glean from listening in to the chatter over the comms, there had been some kind of incident over Bothawui, and something about a New Republic-Imperial fight at the Ubiqtorate base at Yaga Minor. He would have to ask Leia for a briefing once they landed—that is, if he could even get through to her. It looked like a kicked insects’ nest down there…

Thankfully, Luke’s status as a Jedi got them a free pass through the worst of it. He felt vaguely guilty about it, as usual, but they had news that waited for no traffic line. The automated guide beacons dragged them down through the atmosphere, past the gleaming towers of Coruscant’s endless cityscape, toward the Imperial Palace. They were cleared for internal docking bay fifty-three, and their arrival drew many a whistle of admiration from the mechanical crews currently working inside.

Mara settled the ship down on the deck and cut the power. “So…” she began. “You should probably go shoo the techs away and explain the situation. I’ll stay here with old red-eyes until you give the all clear.”

“If you’re alright with that…?”

“I’ll be fine.” Mara waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I think our welcome committee’s just arrived. Go say hi.”

Luke stretched out with his senses. Indeed, a new group of people had just entered the bay.

Mara left the ladder down just long enough for Luke and Artoo to disembark, then retracted and sealed it after them. Artoo promptly rolled away, most likely in search of an oil bath or recharge station or otherwise a good solid cleaning. A small crowd had gathered around the ship, gawking, but dispersed at Luke’s firm prompting.

The welcome committee had stationed itself a little ways in from one end of the docking bay. Among them stood Leia Organa Solo, to Luke’s eternal relief; she must have caught word of his arrival or otherwise sensed him come in. Around her stood a small cadre of armoured guards—and two robed Noghri.

Luke couldn’t help but wince. This might not be very pleasant…

“Welcome back, Luke,” Leia greeted him as he approached. “Sorry it’s such a mess down here. We’re still recovering from the attack at Bothawui. The senate hasn’t stopped yelling for days.”

“You’re going to have to fill me in,” Luke said. “Mara and I have been out of contact.”

Leia nodded. “I’d heard. I take it you found her?”

“Safe and sound,” he confirmed. “Is that business with the Caamas document still ongoing?”

He could tell the answer from Leia’s expression alone. She blew out a long, tired breath. “It is. We’ve tried so hard to find a copy, but we’ve failed. The standoff broke up, but Drev’starn’s been devastated and I’m just worried about who’ll be next. Why?”

“Well…” Luke began. “We might be able to help with that.” From a pocket he withdrew the datacard Artoo had fashioned for him during the trip and offered it to her. “One complete copy of the Caamas document, fresh from Grand Admiral Thrawn’s databanks.”

Leia’s eyes widened, her shock reflected in her sense. She took the datacard, holding it very gently in the palm of her hand. “Grand Admiral Thrawn’s… Luke, _how?_ ” After a brief moment of reverence, she tucked it safely away. “I’m not complaining, but how in the galaxy did you find this?”

“It’s… not a story I should tell you right now. Not here. We need—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “Can you secure this docking bay? Like, properly secure it? No access, no recorders or cameras?”

Leia narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you done now? You and Han, I swear you have a look.”

“We found more than just the Caamas document on Nirauan,” Luke said soberly. “I can’t say any more until this bay is secured.”

“I can get Ghent on it.” Leia drew a comlink from her robe, but paused. “Is this particular something or somethings the reason Mara’s still aboard? Should I call a medical team too?”

“No, Mara’s fine. But you might want to call that team anyway, come to think of it—but make sure they’re people you trust.” After all, they didn’t know for sure whether or not the decanting process had gone as smoothly as it looked.

“Right…” Leia disengaged herself from the group. One brief conversation with Crypt Chief Ghent later and she returned, dismissing everyone but the two Noghri and ordering away the bay’s various personnel. They drained out, and a few minutes after the doors had closed Ghent confirmed the bay was blind and sealed.

Luke stretched out with his senses to confirm that they were alone, and then took a deep breath. “We found Grand Admiral Thrawn himself.”

The two Noghri jerked away as if they had been burned. Leia managed to pull her mouth closed again; she did not look pleased, to put it lightly. “Is that who I can sense in there? You brought him to _Coruscant?!_ ”

“Listen, Leia. There are things we need to talk about. I swear it’ll make sense, but you need to trust me. Can we arrange a meeting with Gavrisom and Bel Iblis and everyone else you think might want a say in the fate of the galaxy?”

Leia’s expression of half-puzzlement half-outrage remained. “Why? Sure, but _why?_ Why would you do this, you know that the situation is like here—”

“ _Please_. We had no choice.”

Leia pressed her lips tightly together, examining his no doubt comical earnestness. “Fine. I will take it on good faith that you know what the hell you’re doing.”

“Thank you,” Luke said. He looked to the two Noghri. “Can you two promise not to do anything rash?”

The robed aliens didn’t respond. “Sakhisakh? Barkhimkh?” Leia prompted.

“You ask much of us,” Sakhisakh warned. “But if my Lady wishes it we will save our judgements for later.” He looked to Barkhimkh, and must have found what he was looking for on the other’s face for both of them fell silent.

“That’ll have to do.” Luke flicked his wrist comm on and raised it to his lips. “Mara? Coast’s clear.”

Her voice came back a second later. “ _Right_.”

The ship’s docking ladder unfurled with a metallic clattering, sounding five times louder than normal in the utter silence of the bay. Down it descended the ship’s remaining occupants. Mara had her blaster drawn and prominently displayed at her side; Thrawn continued on calmly ahead of her, ignoring the threat.

“I should mention really quick, before they get here, that that is not the original Thrawn. He’s a clone, but for all intents and purposes…” Luke trailed off. “He seems like a very thorough copy.”

“Oh, great. Anything else?”

Leia’s group was impossible to miss, being the only ones remaining in the bay, and soon the two groups were face to face. The Noghri, Luke noticed, had drawn their knives and had shifted into guard position beside her. For a moment nobody said anything.

Leia relented first. “I suppose I should welcome you to Coruscant.”

“Yes,” Thrawn began slowly. He finished his sweep of the docking bay and returned his gaze to the Noghri, examining them just as closely as they were examining him. “It has been a while.”

“You’ve never been here,” Mara pointed out.

“Only if you choose to see it that way.”

Leia cleared her throat. “I’d certainly love to hear how you’ve managed to convince my brother to bring you here.”

“You assume I had to convince him of anything. It was he and Jade who convinced _me_ to come here with them, and promised me a meeting with your leaders.”

Leia shot Luke a glare worthy of a Wookiee, to which he responded with a guilty smile. “Did he?” she said. “Is anyone going to explain why?”

“There’s an invasion coming,” Luke said with what he hoped was just the right amount of seriousness. “We thought it would be wise to enlist Thrawn’s help, since he seems to know a lot about it.” Put like that, it did seem a little suspicious…

Leia, clearly, had the same thought. “Uh-huh. And you just believed him did you?”

“Actually it was his fancy ‘Hand of Thrawn’ who told us—me, if it matters—everything we know about it,” Mara interjected.

“Correction: and you just believed them did you?”

“The Empire of the Hand had no reason to lie,” Thrawn said, “as I have no reason to lie to you now. There are many things in our galaxy I would like to see preserved. I’m sure you feel the same, so it would be in your best interest to listen to us.”

Leia crossed her arms. “So there’s an invasion coming. I’m going to need more information than that if I’m going to let you anywhere near the council.”

“I will gladly supply it. But not here.”

Leia turned very pointedly to Luke and Mara. Luke shrugged helplessly. “We really should gather everyone for this,” he said.

“Unbelievable,” Leia muttered. Louder, she said, “Barkhimkh?”

“Yes, Lady Vader?”

She fished the datacard Luke had given her from her robes and handed it to him. “Please take the Caamas document to President Gavrisom. Crash the senate meeting if you have to, just make sure he gets it as soon as possible.”

Barkhimkh tucked the ‘card carefully into one of the pouches that lined his belt and then dashed away. Luke watched him idle near the western entrance until the door opened and he could slip through. Interesting, it seemed that either Ghent had failed to lock the doors properly or was otherwise monitoring them himself; which would be strange, since the man didn’t seem the eavesdropping type.

Or, Luke thought belatedly, it could be the new group that had just come in.

By the look of them they were the medics Leia said she’d summon. Also by the look of them they had no idea exactly why they had been summoned. All four floundered as soon as they caught sight of what awaited them in the bay, slowing almost to a stop with widened eyes or stiffened antennae. The Rodian near the front recovered the quickest, resuming her slow creep forward. Eventually the others followed.

“I see our conversation is over,” Thrawn said, turning his head to track their progress.

Mara was eyeing the incoming group with confusion. “Leia called down some medics,” Luke leaned over to explain.

Mara grunted. “I hope she was selective about it. They’re in on the big secret now.”

Luke hoped she had been, even though she hadn’t known about their special guest at the time.

The little group lingered about three metres away, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Leia thanked them for coming and said, “Please make sure our guest is healthy then escort him to wing fifteen, suite thirty-seven.”

Standing beside her, Sakhisakh stiffened. “My Lady, you mean to allow _this_ —” he gestured to Thrawn, “—to wander about the Palace with but healers to guard him?”

Leia made a gesture for him to keep his voice down. She made another gesture, and the four of them relocated a respectable distance away from where the medics were working up the courage to do their assigned job. Past his comrades, Luke saw Thrawn turn his head ever so slightly, watching them out of the corner of his eye. His lack of attention gave the medics some courage, and they shuffled forward.

“Like it or not he’s our guest,” Leia said. Her tone indicated that she was leaning more toward _not_. “For the moment, that means he has to be accommodated.”

“But I must protest,” Sakhisakh said, speaking quietly but firmly. “He enslaved the Noghri people for his war games, crushed the freedoms of many more like us. He must be held accountable. He must _not_ be allowed free reign of the Palace!”

“He won’t have free reign,” she assured him. “But we don’t have all the information yet. I hate to say it, but we can’t outright lock him up until we do.”

“I don’t think being thrown in a cell would particularly endear him to us,” Luke interjected. He debated for a moment, and then added, “And I think he might actually want to help us. Or, if not us specifically, at least the portion of the galaxy we live in.”

Besides, technically, this particular being had yet to do anything worthy of such a sentence. But he wasn’t going to bring that up right now.

Sakhisakh remained stiff, his alien sense swirling with displeasure, but he said nothing more. Luke could sympathise with him, and he felt bad for trodding all over the Noghri’s wishes like that, but he had made a promise and the future safety of the galaxy might very well depend on how well he could keep it.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Leia said.

The medics’ tense preliminary scans showed no anomalies they could detect, at least ones outside of the usual wealth of errors that came with scanning an unknown alien, and Leia promptly released them to their escort duties. With a glance at Sakhisakh, Mara declared she would be accompanying them.

She bumped Luke lightly with her elbow as she passed. “Later, farmboy.”

Luke smiled, and then accompanied Leia from the bay and into what was likely to be one very long debriefing.

Here’s hoping he could get some real food on the way.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later…_

Luke Skywalker sat alone at an empty conversation circle, a mug of flavoured hot chocolate clasped in both hands, listening with half an ear to the noisy din of the lounge he was sitting in, high up in the Imperial Palace. To his left ran the walkway, raised up a metre from the lower area he was in and connected to it by ramps and stairs. Other plush-seated conversation circles were spread out around him, many containing their own hushed conversations or lounging officials.

Mara and Leia he’d summoned here to meet him, and they were due to arrive at any moment. Leia because it was far past time he told her about the deal he’d made with Thrawn’s clone, and Mara because it would be wrong to exclude her from something she’d taken such an active part in.

Two weeks. Ten days; had he really thought it would be enough time?

There was a subtle nudge to one side of his senses. Luke raised his mug for another sip and focused on the bright point of Mara’s Force signature weaving its way toward him. She emerged from the thick swirl of the passing crowds, looking distinctly harried, and made her way over to him.

Dropping herself into the seat across from him, Mara said, “Alright, what’s this about?”

Luke motioned for her to speak quietly. “It’s about our new friend. It’s been two weeks.”

“I’d noticed. Don’t see why you had to call me all the way out here to tell me that.” She paused. “Wait, you’re not actually thinking about letting him go are you?”

“I am. We made a promise. Whatever the outcome, we would let him go after two weeks.”

“I was there, I heard. And _I_ thought we wanted to convince the council to listen to his report of this threat we heard about. They’ve barely bothered to make time for the three meetings we _have_ attended.” She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Keeping him here a little longer can’t hurt too much. Besides, the council knows now. They won’t just let him go, not easily.”

“I don’t know if he’ll see it that way,” Luke warned. “We need to let him go. We need his help against this threat, and… well I won’t claim to know him but I have a feeling he won’t want to stay here and be ignored.”

“Do we? I, for one, am beginning to regret not just shooting him back on Nirauan.” At Luke’s surprised look, she continued, “You may not know him, but I do. Ten to one he’ll turn out to be more trouble than you can handle. Besides, genius or not he’s just one man.”

“I just have this _feeling_ like we should get his help. I don’t know Mara, I still think we should let him go.”

Mara crossed her arms and looked sceptically at him. “You just have ‘ _this feeling?_ ’”

“I—” Luke sighed. “I just do. I can’t explain it.” Not well, at least. “I told Leia to meet me here too. I’m going to have to tell her about the deal we made. And I do think letting our friend go is the best course of action, for better or worse.”

“You know, if this is a Force thing I’m starting to hate it.”

Sometimes Luke did too. Not so strongly, but he could sympathise with the feeling. The Force was never exactly _clear_. Good or bad, light or dark…

He placed his mug down on the round table in front of him and gazed out at the crowds milling along the corridor, at the swirling green miraansei trees and taposh bushes that decorated the sides of the lounge and walkway—replacements for the ch’halas and for every other tree and plant they’d ripped up and replaced.

Truthfully he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He knew what his gut told him to do, but he couldn’t possibly trust every feeling he got. And would it be wrong to break his promise, or would it only be giving what he was likely to get?

“What’s that?”

Luke blinked, jolted from his thoughts. “Mmm?”

Mara pointed at his mug. “That. What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s hot chocolate.” He picked the mug back up and gave its contents a swirl. “Lando introduced me to it. It’s really good. Turns out, they sell it at a little shop just outside the Palace, since everyone here seems to consider themselves above it. A shame, really....”

Mara raised an eyebrow, amused. “You went all the way out there for a drink?”

“Yes? They sell it in packets. I stocked up so I won’t have to go out again too soon.”

“You’re a mystery, Skywalker,” she said with a shake of her head. Luke saw her flick a glance over his shoulder. “Leia’s here.”

Luke refocused on his surroundings. Now that he was paying attention, he could indeed see Leia approaching, dressed in senate finery and most likely straight from the room itself. Stretching out farther with his senses, he could pick out the unique mind of one of her Noghri shadows trailing some distance behind.

“I have ten minutes, so whatever this is it has to be quick,” she warned them as she took a seat at the circle.

“Sorry for dragging you out here,” Luke said. “But I have an… important confession to make.”

“An important confession.”

“So you know how our new friend mentioned that I promised him a meeting with the council? I may have also promised him that we’d let him go after two weeks. Our time is up.”

For a long moment Leia just stared at him. “For a start,” she said, “I doubt that will be possible. I don’t know how in the galaxy you tricked him into believing that you could ever follow through on that.”

“It was the only way to get his help.”

“Luke, the council doesn’t _want_ his help. They don’t believe him, they don’t trust him, and they certainly won’t let a warlord of his calibre just walk free. They want him locked up where he can’t do any more harm, and frankly I agree with them.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Mara said, leaning forward to cross her arms on the table. “But he has this ‘feeling.’”

“And maybe I’m misinterpreting it, but it doesn’t matter.” He took a breath, setting his mug back down. “We do have to let him go. Setting aside current happenings he’s a clone, he’s not guilty of anything. We _can’t_ keep him here, even if we want to.”

And did he want to? Underneath all the promises and feelings, the answer was yes. He didn’t want to let Thrawn go; the thought was unnerving. The idea of him once again at the Empire’s head, leading an attack against them…

“Yet. He’s not guilty of anything _yet_.” Leia affixed him with a hard look. “If we let him go and he returns to the Empire, it’ll be more than we can handle. We’re too close to peace for me to let that happen; the Empire might withdraw. It nearly happened once already. I’m sorry Luke, but we can’t.”

“I understand where you’re coming from.” Luke sighed. “I’m just worried about what will happen if this invasion is real. Someone like him will be good to have on our side.”

“Then we can settle it after an agreement has been made. But he can’t go now, and I can’t and won’t do anything to change that.” Leia abruptly stood. “But I really have to go now. I’m needed at another meeting. The Ishori and Diamala are at each other again.” There was real weariness in her voice.

Luke nodded. “Good luck. And may the Force be with you.”

As Leia made her way back to the main hallway, Mara said: “She’ll need it.” She looked to Luke, chewing his lip, his mug of hot chocolate forgotten on the table in front of him. “She _is_ right.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to go talk to him.”

“I appreciate you taking one for the team, but I doubt you’ll be able to do much.”

“Still, it’d be nice to let him know what’s going on. Perhaps there’s a way to make this work…” Thrawn wouldn’t be pleased to know that they would be keeping him here after all, but perhaps Luke could find a way to salvage this.

Mara leaned back and waved with one hand to the flowing river of beings. “Tell me if you think of anything.”

“I will.”

* * *

It was eerie to see the corridors of the Palace so deserted, Luke thought as he made his way through the newly-quarantined wing fifteen. There were no guests, no security personnel, no sentient beings nor droids of any kind.

At least until he reached the last corridor and came upon a cluster of five very bored-looking X-wing pilots standing or sitting around the entrance to suite thirty-seven; Rogue Squadron, if the presence of Rogue Leader and his mop of dark hair was anything to go by, or at least a small fragment of them. Luke felt a smile break across his face.

One of the pilots noticed him and gave Wedge Antilles a jab with her elbow, saying something too faint for Luke to make out. Wedge started like he had been knocked out of a particularly enticing daydream. He raised a hand in greeting. “Oh, hello Luke.”

Luke came to a stop in front of them. “Hey Wedge. Leia’s put you on guard duty has she?”

“Seems so. We’re currently assigned to General Bel Iblis, and since he’s grounded we’ve got nothing else to do,” Wedge said. He shrugged. “Honestly I’m flattered he trusts us enough to let us in on the big secret. Besides, Leia said her own guards were getting antsy.”

Luke nodded to himself; yes, the Noghri had expressed their discomfort many times at being in such close proximity to Thrawn. But they were adamant about protecting Leia, and he wondered if this was their idea or hers.

“You’re here to see him?” Wedge asked.

“Yes. Sorry you got stuck with this job.”

Wedge waved a hand. “Ah, it’s no trouble.”

There was a mumble of, “Dunno, I’d much rather be out flying test runs with the others…” from one of the other pilots. Wedge threw them a quick glance, then reached back and slapped the door release. It slid open, and with a grateful nod Luke entered.

In contrast to the brightly lit hallway, the room was dark. It was the kind of dimness you would find in a morning bedroom, noticeable without being uncomfortable. His recommendations had been taken in stride, and while the furnishings were hardly luxurious it was not a jail cell. There was a singular table and its accompanying seat, a bed, and a small refresher station all of moderate quality.

“Ah, Skywalker,” Thrawn’s coolly modulated voice drifted over from Luke’s left. He was seated at the table, his fingers steepled, his eyes glowing like red coals in the semi-darkness. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”

“I can imagine,” Luke said, hesitant to move more than a few metres away from the door.

Thrawn gestured to the bench that encircled half the table. “Take a seat.”

Luke would admit that there was something compelling in the way he said it, urging him forward like a shove at the small of his back. He remained where he was. “I don’t plan on talking long.”

“Very well.” His face was unreadable. “In what way do you plan on telling me that my stay will be indefinite?”

“Not indefinite,” Luke said firmly. “We just have to keep you here a little longer. Until things quiet down and the council has more time to talk.”

“Skywalker, you disappoint me. Surely a Jedi of your skill would be able to realise a lie when he says it.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You are.” Thrawn stood abruptly. Clasping his hands behind his back, he strode out from behind the table and came to a stop some distance away. “You know as well as I do that the New Republic will never let me go. You want to believe they’re only ignoring me because of their many duties, when the truth is they will always dismiss me because I will always be their enemy. They will keep me here forever while the galaxy runs out of time.” He gave Luke a contemplative look. “You, however, could fix that.”

Luke gave a helpless shake of his head. “I can’t. Ultimately, Gavrisom is in charge of what happens to you.”

“You claim that you, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, have no authority within the New Republic?”

“I… _do_ , but not with this.” Luke paused, finding that he didn’t quite know what to say. He tried in vain to reach out with the Force, to attempt to get some kind of sense for what Thrawn was playing at. It had always been difficult for him to read aliens; he got some annoyance, a hint of urgency, but it was all muddled by that same eerie discomfort that always cluttered the Force around Spaarti clones. “Look, please stay for a little longer. I know you don’t believe anything will happen, but the council isn’t stupid. They’ll come around eventually.”

“And by then we will have wasted too much time.” He paced away again, stopping with his back to Luke. “Perhaps your council will come around, but the evidence needed to achieve that cannot come from me. I can do nothing so long as I remain on Coruscant, and I will need your help if I am to return to a place where I can be of use.”

“I can’t,” Luke said again, feeling the first stirrings of frustration. “The council won’t free you on my vote alone, no matter how vocal I am. They don’t like the idea of you anywhere near the Empire, especially not with the upcoming peace treaty.”

Thrawn looked to Luke sharply. “Peace treaty?”

Luke pressed his lips firmly together. Whoops. “President Gavrisom is supposed to meet with the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet soon,” he said reluctantly, “to discuss terms of surrender.

“May I ask who proposed this peace treaty?” Thrawn’s voice gave no hint as to his opinion on the matter.

“I don’t think Gavrisom or Bel Iblis would appreciate me telling you. I’ve already said too much.”

Thrawn turned again to face him. “Given what I’ve heard about the state of the Empire, it’s good they’re taking precautions to preserve what little is left. Have terms been agreed on?”

“I can’t tell you, even if I did know.”

Thrawn seemed to take that in stride. He rubbed a thumb thoughtfully across his chin. “The war is ending...” He remained frozen there for a moment, and then looked back. “You brought me here for my aid. Your New Republic is lacking on many fronts, but for the sake of our galaxy I will work with you. But not from here. I must return to the Empire, and you must convince your council to let them land on Coruscant.”

“If they won’t let you leave normally, they certainly won’t let you leave with the Empire. Upcoming peace treaty or not, right now we’re still at war,” Luke said.

“So we are. But if you want my help, you will try.”

Luke wasn’t sure that was the best idea. “If the Empire finds out that your return this time is for real they might pull away from any kind of treaty,” he pointed out. And he knew how much it would hurt Leia to know how close they had come to peace, just to lose any chance of it.

“If I announce my presence, certainly. But the entire Empire does not need to know, just as your entire New Republic does not need to know. By the time word gets out the treaty will have already been signed and it will be too late to back down without serious repercussions.”

That… was actually a good point. Luke frowned faintly. With the New Republic’s internal troubles and the recent dispersal of the very same rumour, any word that does slip out prematurely will be dismissed out of hand. The same could be said for the Empire—a mere rumour would not be enough to shift them from the iron course Admiral Pellaeon had set them on.

The only thing that mattered then was exactly what Thrawn planned to do with his newfound freedom.

“Think on it,” Thrawn said.

“I suppose I should. But for now, you need to stay here.” Luke made to leave—and paused halfway through his turn, a thought floating to the front of his mind. “If you knew we wouldn’t release you why did you come with us so easily?”

“What better way to assess the state of the galaxy than from within its current heart? Besides, unarmed and against two Jedi I would hardly have stood a chance.”

Luke didn’t point out that Mara wasn’t a Jedi, but it was close enough. “Thanks for your time.”

“Make sure you consider it,” Thrawn’s voice trailed after him as Luke left the room.

Outside, Rogue Squadron had clearly been waiting. “So, how’d it go?” Wedge asked, somewhat eagerly, as the door slid shut behind him. There was a barely audible _thunk_ as one of the other pilots locked it.

“About as well as you’d expect,” Luke replied.

“That bad?”

“He has a silver tongue,” was all Luke dared to say. “I need to go think.”

“Don’t let him get to you,” Wedge said. “And if you want company you know where to find us.”

“Thanks, Wedge.”

He almost didn’t hear Wedge’s goodbye as he continued away down the corridor.

* * *

Thrawn watched the door close behind Skywalker.

Things were now in motion, for better or worse. He hated having to rely on such shaky planning, but he knew there was no other option. As of now there was no way for him to predict how the New Republic would react, but he couldn’t afford to wait until he was certain of their methods.

In theory he could simply consent to being trapped here, relying on the fact that he was “not Thrawn” to avoid being imprisoned or executed by the more skittish of Republic dignitaries. Or he could allow Skywalker to finish negotiating with his council in the hopes that, somehow, he could actually convince them to let the Empire land on Coruscant. But both options would waste precious time—time he could better spend organising his forces.

No, it was time to move.

Disguising the movement as an adjustment of his collar, aware that the New Republic had eyes watching him at all times, Thrawn ran a finger across the thin remote activator buried in the collar of his tunic, pausing for a split second to click the switch at the very end. That droid had been bothersome and he wasn’t completely certain he’d wired the device correctly in the few minutes he’d had, not to mention the models of clawcraft used by the Empire of the Hand had advanced nearly to the point of unrecognizability. Sleeker, faster, more powerful—all very good and useful things, except for the situation he was currently in.

He found himself holding his breath and wondering whether or not he should begin formulating a plan C…

The faintest rumble permeated the floor beneath his feet.

Allowing none of the relief he was feeling onto his face, he wandered back over to the table provided to him and sat down.

* * *

Luke had made it only a few corridors when he felt the muted rumble of an explosion.

He whirled on his heel, but froze, unsure of what to do. The sound had been faint, distant, but it had definitely come from within the Palace itself. Stretching out with his senses, he could feel the strong aura of surprise, anger, fear that wafted up from the general direction of the landing area. He focused harder, and the sense he got was undeniable.

A ship, or part of one, had exploded.

After a moment’s debate, he set off toward it. He had to talk to Gavrisom, but that would have to hold anyway while he thought more on how to go about it. Perhaps seeing if he could lend a hand would help clear some of the knots in his mind.

He followed the mental commotion all the way down. Halfway there a bad feeling began to tingle at the back of his mind, and only grew stronger as he drew closer to internal docking bay fifty-three.

Luke arrived to find a sizeable crowd mustering around the entrance to that very bay, their cumulative sense bristling with agitation. It was composed mainly of mechanics in grease-stained coveralls, but he could spot a few curious civilians milling about the crowd. Along the sides of the corridor, trying their best to stay out of the way, were half a dozen or so injured mechanics and the generous few civilians tending to them.

He was not surprised to see Mara among the crowd, the top of her head standing out among the caps and hoods like a fiery beacon—he had sensed her presence almost as soon as the lift doors opened. She was standing near the front, right in front of the doors, trying her very best to keep nosy onlookers out of the bay. Luke sent her a mental warning that he was coming as he wormed his way through the crowd.

“Mara, what happened?” Luke asked as he breached the front.

“Thank the stars you’re here,” Mara said, looking harried. Ignoring the technician attempting to get her attention, she continued, “When Security gets down here I’ll show you.”

Luke acknowledged with a nod and took up a spot at her side. It took four minutes for Security to arrive, and in that time he found himself explaining endlessly that, until damage assessments had been made, no one was allowed into the bay for any reason. Yes, it was his ship. No, he didn’t know what caused the explosion.

Most of his questioners retreated when Security arrived, a fact for which he was grateful. The woman Luke assumed to be the security captain looked between them. “Does the ship in this bay belong to you?”

As her officers fanned out to secure the corridor and question the wounded, Mara said, “It did.”

It wasn’t _technically_ a lie: the Hand wasn’t likely to get it back, especially not anymore. The captain gestured for them to enter, and they did.

It was worse than Luke had anticipated.

In the very middle of the bay sat the blackened dent and scattered debris of the once operational starfighter. It was utterly unrecognisable. Dark black scorch marks flowed out from the epicentre, warping the floors and spreading to the walls and up them like the claws of a terrible beast. The debris, or what was left of it, was equally as twisted; some of the pieces had embedded themselves into the wall or lay scattered at its base. There was a thin film of wetness across the floor signifying that the fire suppression system had done its job well, but a few wisps of smoke still lingered in the corners.

Peripherally he saw the security captain step to the side and pull out a comlink, but he was too busy gaping to look. “ _How?_ ”

Crossing her arms as she stared at the mess, Mara said darkly, “I think we already know how.”

Luke felt a prickle along the back of his neck. “But he was unarmed. How could he do this, and why? There’s no need for it, he knows that. We’re already working things out!”

“About that…?”

Luke lowered his voice. “He made some good points and I was going to talk to the council about maybe letting him leave with the Empire. Long story, I’ll tell you all of it later.”

Mara’s expression stated that she would very much get all of it. “You were _what_ —alright fine. Later.” She glanced at the Security personnel fanning out to investigate the room. “Looks like they’ve got it all covered here. We might as well head on up and make sure our guest is where we left him.”

She started away. Luke followed, leaving the captain behind in the bay on the assumption that if Security needed anything from them they would call for it later. He waited until they were out of range of the lingering techs and guards before saying, “Are you thinking he’s going to stage an escape?”

“Why else would he blow up the starfighter? He’s not the type to go for petty destruction just because he can. He’s planning something, I know it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone when we arrive.”

Already at a light jog, they picked up the pace a little. “The Rogues are armed. I can’t imagine they’d be so sloppy as to sleep on the job.”

“Thrawn was capable of many things, most of which few knew about,” Mara said, voice low. “And no offense but X-wing pilots don’t make the greatest guards.”

But when they turned into the corridor containing suite thirty-seven they found all five of the assigned members of Rogue Squadron still upright and alive. Bored, slouching a little, but alive.

Wedge looked surprised to see them as they approached. “Hey, Luke. Mara. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“There was a change of plans,” Luke said.

“Does it have anything to do with that quake?” Wedge asked. “Felt like an explosion. We considered checking it out but we thought it wouldn’t be a good idea, considering. What happened?”

“A ship blew up,” was all Mara said. “You’re absolutely sure no one entered or exited this room?”

Wedge shrugged. “No one came through this door, that’s for sure. And the vents are way too small for anything bigger than a Chadra-Fan to fit through so I’d wager he’s still in there.”

“Excuse us if we make sure.” Mara drew her blaster, and Wedge stepped aside to allow her access to the door panel. She palmed it, entered.

Thrawn looked up at them from where he was seated at the very same table he had been at before. “Jade. Skywalker. Welcome back.”

“We know you blew up the ship,” Mara said, giving him a steely look. Luke sidestepped in and around her for a better view.

Thrawn ignored her glare. “I’m curious to hear why you think that. I’m sure you simply haven’t noticed, but I’m in no position to be blowing up starships.”

“And deactivated ships don’t just blow themselves up,” she countered. “No one else has any reason to do it, which leaves you.”

“You have every right to be suspicious, but I assure you it was no fault of mine.” He paused, just noticeably. “Was it the clawcraft? The vessel you _borrowed_ from the Hand?”

Luke kept a frown off his face; he had sensed something uncomfortable just then, something not quite right, but Thrawn’s alien sense was too evasive for him to detect how or why.

“Does it matter?” Mara asked.

“Indeed. You see those ships have an unfortunate flaw wherein the capacitor for the hyperdrive motivator can overload if given too much power from the surrounding sublight lines. If the junction’s shielding was disrupted when the clawcraft was turned on, it may very well have sparked such an explosion.”

“There were mechanics in the bay when we landed…” Luke murmured to Mara. And if he were a mechanic faced with an unknown alien ship, especially one as sleek and intriguing as the ‘clawcraft,’ he was sure he wouldn’t be able to resist taking a peek inside.

“I know, I was there—a few minutes earlier and it would have killed me,” Mara said tartly. She turned her attention back to Thrawn. “You could have wanted to distract us, or damage our assets.” She gestured with her blaster. “Up. Hands out.”

“When we are so close to becoming allies?” Thrawn did what she asked without complaint. Mara checked him over thoroughly for weapons or devices. “But I concede my information may be outdated. I’m certain the Empire of the Hand has technical schematics you could view— they have no desire to be your enemies. Certainly not yours, Mara Jade. Mishaps notwithstanding.”

Finding nothing, Mara stepped back. “Fine,” she conceded, perhaps also realising that one minor starfighter going up in flames didn’t really do much for him, “but we’ll be watching you.”

“You already are.” Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back, inclining his head. “Until next time.”

“Right.”

Mara turned and left. Luke paused for a moment, and then followed.

Wedge and two of his pilots stepped out of their way as they exited. One locked the door behind them as Wedge said, “So I take it he’s still in there?”

“Safe and sound,” Luke confirmed. “Thanks again for all this.”

“Happy to help.”

“Make sure you keep your blasters at the ready,” Mara warned them. Her sense was wound tighter than a coiled spring. “And don’t listen to a thing he says. In fact, if he so much as breathes oddly, stun him.”

“Will do,” Wedge said after them as they advanced away down the corridor.

Once they were a significant distance down, Luke said, “You think he’s up to something? Or, something other than what he’s trying to get me to do?”

“When isn’t he?” Mara said. “I still think he blew it up, I just don’t have proof. What, you trust him?”

“Not one bit. In fact, I think I sensed something… _off_ when he was talking to you. But what he says does make sense. He doesn’t have much of a motive, and you didn’t find anything on him, did you?”

“No,” Mara ground out. “But I know him. He _is_ up to something, trust me.”

“I do. Perhaps more of Rogue Squadron’ll consent to guard duty.”

“Or _perhaps_ we can get those Noghri back up here,” Mara said, her tone implying she thought it was a much better option. “Where are they, anyway?”

“Down in the senate chamber with Leia, I’d wager. They haven’t strayed far from her since we brought our _friend_ here.”

“No time to waste then.” She adjusted their course, taking a left at the next intersection. “And what _did_ you talk with him about? How in all the stars did he manage to convince you to let him leave with the _Empire_ , of all things?”

“Well…”

Luke told her about their conversation, continuing on until they were far out of sight.

* * *

Thrawn sat back at his table, lacing his fingers on the surface in front of him. The muffled conversation outside had ceased, and he imagined that Jade and Skywalker must be some distance down the corridor by now. He counted down the seconds. Ten or so minutes should be sufficient, perhaps more just to make sure.

He knew the cameras were always watching him, so he endeavoured to appear content. He stood, paced around the room a few times, and then took a seat on the edge of his bed and remained there until he was certain it was time to move.

Standing, he crossed to the door and gave it four firm knocks. He could hear the faintest sound of muffled voices from the other side, lasting for a significant while, until the door opened to reveal an orange-suited X-wing pilot. The famed Rogue Leader, if he recalled correctly. Good that he was curious.

“What?” Wedge Antilles said, the blaster in his hands half raised. The blue light glowing on its side signified it was set to stun.

Thrawn attempted to appear nonthreatening—a feat, he was aware, that was somewhat difficult for someone of his appearance and reputation. “You are Rogue Leader, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be possible for you to give me a connection to the HoloNet? I wish to update myself on current affairs.”

“I don’t have the authority to do anything but guard you,” Antilles said. “And with all due respect if you wanted that, you should’ve asked Luke when he was here.”

“Perhaps I should have. But it just occurred to me that—” He cut himself off, lashing out as fast as he could with one hand to catch Antilles across the throat. He gagged, but managed to get a shot off before Thrawn shoved him back out the door. It went wild, the blue rings splashing against the table and disintegrating into droplets of light.

His fellow pilots were quick—the one nearest to it hit the door release, but in the time between that and when it slammed shut Thrawn had already ducked out into the corridor. He fell immediately into a crouch, letting the stun blast aimed at him ripple harmlessly over his head. There was a truncated grunt that signified it had dropped one of the others.

There was a split second pause wherein the three remaining pilots to his left and right puzzled over how to hit him without hitting each other with the crossfire. Antilles, not having that problem, had somewhat recovered; enough, at least, to raise his blaster and fire. The bolt very nearly hit its mark. Thrawn managed to twist enough so that it just grazed him, its nerve-disrupting aura passing dizzyingly close by, and in the movement launched himself again at Antilles.

He grasped Antilles by both wrists and twisted his blaster enough so that his next shot impacted the floor at their feet. Another rippled past to splash against the far wall. Thrawn brought a knee up hard into Antilles’s gut, who caved in on himself with a wheeze. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Thrawn ducked behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder and reacquiring his grip on Antilles’s gun hand. He used both to drag Antilles in front of him, placing him firmly between Thrawn and his three opponents.

Antilles attempted to twist away, but found himself caught as Thrawn released his grip on his shoulder and locked an arm around his throat from behind. He squeezed as hard as he dared. Antilles dug fingers into his arm, his kick hitting Thrawn in the shin and causing them both to stumble.

“You can’t take us all down,” one of the other pilots called, attempting to draw a bead on him around Antilles. “We’ve already alerted Security.”

Regaining his balance, Thrawn retained his hold on Antilles. _Thank you for the warning_ , he thought as he felt his opponent begin to weaken. He wrenched the blaster from Antilles’s grasp and promptly shot him in the side with his own weapon.

No longer needing to choke him quite as hard, Thrawn released the grip he had across Antilles’s neck in favour of propping him up with an arm around his chest. His target saw him raise his stolen blaster, and to their credit dodged most of the blast that came their way. Thrawn simply fired another, dropping them cold.

The two remaining pilots were firing at him hesitantly now, but most of their shots went wild as they struggled to hit him around the form of their leader—stun blasts were of course nonlethal, but too many in quick succession and they wouldn’t remain that way. Slowly backing away, taking his impromptu shield with him, Thrawn fired back.

The very last leapt to the side as the unconscious form of her teammate slumped to the ground beside her. There was pure fury in her eyes as, with a yell, she charged. Thrawn could not accurately hit her from the angle he was at, so he let Antilles slip to the floor and used the freedom of mobility to spin and track her.

His stun blast dropped her right as her very real and very substantial shot impacted his lower shoulder and spun him partway around.

Gritting his teeth, Thrawn let out a quiet hiss and gripped the burn, faint wisps of smoke curling out from between his fingers. Pain lanced down his arm and through his chest. It took him a precious moment to suppress it, but when he did he wasted no time in crouching down to pick up the blaster he’d inadvertently dropped. He brushed his hair back over his shoulder and swapped the weapon to his uninjured hand, setting off briskly down the corridor. He had escaped his quarters, but he was far from free. The northeast quadrant Security force was currently stationed down in docking bay fifty-three, but he knew they were not lax when it came to reacting to emergencies.

So he moved fast. As he went he fired at the cameras ahead of him; no use giving them any more information than they needed, even if the trail of destruction still gave them a path to follow. Every shot was fired with military precision, but he would admit silently that the reflexes didn’t feel entirely his own… He felt his face twist. But they were—they were rightfully his!

_They are mine. I am Thrawn!_

The memories, the sounds and sensations, every order given and every plan made, he could recall them as if they were his. So why shouldn’t they be? Was he not Thrawn’s heir? Was it not his purpose to _be_ him in thought, form, and function?

He came to an abrupt halt, his train of thought pausing. There, on the wall, was the sign he’d been looking for. He hadn’t known for certain if it would be there—another wild element of a plan wrought with them—or if it existed at all, but his suspicions proved to be true. He fired a few more ranging shots at the cameras farther down the hall, and then turned and, stepping up, pressed his fingers into a groove in the decorative stonework.

After a brief pause, a panel slid open ahead of him. Satisfied, he ducked inside and signalled for it to close behind him—and just in time, for as it did he could hear running footsteps rounding the corner outside.

They ran right past him.

* * *

Luke and Mara rounded the corner at a sprint to find that Security had beaten them to it.

Four officers stood and knelt around the woozy or unconscious forms of the Rogues. Worried, Luke sent out his thoughts toward his friends, but to his relief found all five to be alive. Beside him, Mara cursed quietly under her breath.

Wedge was, for the most part, standing upright, rubbing at his throat through the fabric of his flight suit. “Sorry, Luke,” was the first thing he said when the two came in range, his voice gravelly. “We tried to stop him.”

“I know you did what you could,” Luke said. “Which way did he go?”

Mara snorted, right as Wedge rasped, “We were all out cold by then.” He motioned down the hallway with a jerk of his head. “But I have a feeling he went that way.”

Indeed, every security cam along the whole length of the corridor had been blown out, melted holes in the lenses of each one sparking and trickling wafts of smoke.

“Ah,” Luke said.

“Used my blaster too—right after shooting me with it, I bet, since I don’t have it anymore,” Wedge added.

“At least you’re not dead,” Mara pointed out. Luke could sense her restlessness, but he could also sense that she was refraining hard from taking her frustration out on Wedge. “If you were anyone else I’d bet you would be.”

“I’m not sure…” Luke said quietly. “Maybe he doesn’t want to kill anyone… If he just wants out?”

Mara, evidently, had grown tired of arguing with him. “Whatever the case we can’t just stand around here blabbing. He’s got at least a five minute head start on us. Come on, let’s go.” With that, she was off.

Luke knew he’d said it was best if they let Thrawn’s clone go, but this wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it happening. They had to catch him, if only to keep him from running loose in the Palace. “You rest Wedge,” he said with a nod to the other. “We’ll handle this.”

“Good luck,” Wedge said after him as Luke set off after Mara at a fast clip.

He quickened his pace to catch up with her and fell into step beside her. “Excellent shots…” he heard her murmur.

They approached the T-junction at the end of the hallway—and stopped. The cam high on the wall ahead of them was blown out, but the ones to the right and left of it were perfectly fine. So were the ones all the way down both corridors.

And then Mara swore, louder this time and much more viciously. She gripped Luke by the shoulder. “The secret tunnels, how many of them did you close off?”

“As many as we could find.”

“You missed one,” Mara growled. Releasing him, she paced up and down the hallway, and then came to a stop in front of an ornate panel that, to Luke, looked no different than all the others. But apparently looks were deceiving, as it slid smoothly open at her prompting: a few seconds of pressure to a small groove in the wall. She promptly climbed inside.

A thought struck him, and Luke didn’t follow. “Is that tunnel linear?”

“No,” Mara said, sticking her head back out. “But if I were escaping imprisonment in the most populated city-planet in the Core, I’d head straight for the undercity.” She paused. “There are multiple exits, but I’m not sure he knows about all of them, or even most of them. He certainly wasn’t counting on them before.”

“You’re sure he’ll leave the Palace, not just stay cooped up in there until he has a better chance to escape?”

“He’ll leave, count on it. He knows I’m here, and he knows I know all about this place. Besides, he’ll never get a better chance to escape than now, before we can get Security to seal the exits or go in after him.”

“Makes sense,” Luke conceded. “You go; I’ll check the exterior cams to see if I can give you a rough heading.”

“That’ll leave you way behind,” Mara pointed out.

“I’ll take one of the Palace speeders and catch up with you.”

With that they parted. Luke took off at a run, and Mara disappeared back into the secret tunnel, the entrance sealing perfectly and unobtrusively behind her.

* * *

Thrawn found staying out of sight to be a frustratingly difficult task.

The Imperial Palace’s secret hallways had deposited him within Coruscant’s undercity. The streets remained nearly as populated as the sunlight levels, but the locals here were instantly and distinctly noticeable as a different breed. The metropolitan collection of unsavoury aliens who made this place their home swirled through the streets, lit by the multi-coloured neon lights of equally unsavoury establishments. Pipes leaked viscous fluids and trash collected at the edges of buildings.

Yet despite the scowls and grime and badly-concealed weaponry, Thrawn was quite pleased with his surroundings. Such a rough mix of thoughts and emotions was sure to confuse anyone attempting to track him mentally. Unfortunately a large portion of that same mix would not take kindly to him should they recognise him.

He stayed as best he could to the alleys and side-streets. It was dangerous, he knew, but here he could take care of potential troublemakers without sparking a panic or larger brawl. Early on he had the good fortune to stumble upon a local, half-dozing under the effects of some strong narcotic, so much so that Thrawn simply plucked their cloak up from the permacrete beside them and walked off with it. It served to conceal both his face and his stolen blaster.

Speaking of stealing he was going to need a hyper-capable ship. Palming such a thing, he was sure, would prove a much more dangerous and tricky task. First, he would need tools…

With every step he took the fabric of his stolen cloak agitated his injured shoulder. Adjusting it did no good. He stepped into a cubby in the alley wall, a thin stream of foul water trickling down beside him and draining away through the grate beneath his feet.

Thrawn brushed the fabric away from his right shoulder, letting it fall down his back like a cape, and examined the burn in more detail. It had clearly been a forceful shot from a modern blaster. The shot itself had fused the fabric of his shirt with the charred skin and blackened both. It was mostly cauterised, but a little bit of blood dampened the area around it. His fingers felt numb and refused to respond properly, and he found he couldn’t lift his right arm all the way over his head—which was just as well, since every movement only served to agitate the wound further.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Taking care of it would require the contents of a medpac, and he had nothing with which to bind it in the meantime. For the time being it seemed he would have to deal with the hindrance.

Drawing his cloak back over his shoulder, he returned to the alley and continued on.

* * *

Mara moved quickly through the darkness, taking flights of stairs two at a time and guiding herself by hazy memory. The tunnels were low and cramped, and as she went she disturbed the thin layer of dust that had managed to worm its way inside.

Luke’s voice crackled in her ear: “ _I think I’ve got him. East side, level 4864, took a right turn from the exit_.”

Mara adjusted her path slightly. “Acknowledged.”

Oddly enough she felt a brief flicker of old anger that the Emperor’s usurper, even a clone of him, would dare use his private, secret tunnels. Fast as it came it went, leaving her faintly unnerved to have thought it.

The tunnels deposited her into an alleyway far beneath the Palace. She turned a little, shot a glance at the hidden camera high up on the wall, and set off at a jog toward the distant sounds of life from the undercity ahead: the growl of a hundred different languages flooding in on a wave on neon light.

Mara called up all of her training, both smuggler and otherwise, as she reached the crowded walkways and melded with the beings there. The contrast of light and dark washed out most of the features of passers-by, excess light dripping from damp walls and spreading across the thin film of wetness that had accumulated on the ancient permacrete. She moved as fast as she could through it all without bumping or disturbing the twilighters she passed. The first rule of moving through a place like this: don’t ever draw attention to yourself. Certainly not while searching for someone like Thrawn.

Surely he wasn’t foolish enough to stray anywhere near her, but she scanned the faces of those she passed as best she could just to make sure. Who knew, perhaps he was counting on her not caring to check.

But Mara conceded that he was most likely using every trick he had to get close enough to steal a ship.

From where, from how deep, or when she had no idea. She didn’t even know where to start. The Palace’s surveillance didn’t extend out this far, and if she wanted footage she’d have to hack into the CSF’s network, which she was sure they wouldn’t appreciate. But she _could_ use the public terminals, look for starship repair shops or private hangars nearby. Easy targets.

But again, someone like Thrawn was unlikely to go for the obvious like that.

Unfortunately it was the best shot she had.

Mara had just spotted a suitable terminal when her ear-comm toned. She tapped it. “ _Mara?_ ” Luke’s voice came through, much clearer than it had been in the tunnels.

“Little busy, what is it?”

“ _I was going to ask if you could step over to that speeder pad to your left for a moment, but if you’re busy…_ ”

Mara scanned the airway for him, sure now that he must be in a speeder or at least somewhere with a vantage good enough to spot her among the crowd. After a moment of sifting through the cacophonous mental din of life all around her she could indeed sense his presence nearby. “I was about to search up something on this terminal, but alright. What is it?”

“ _I brought some backup._ ”

Mara was waiting on the landing pad—a little ten-by-ten metre thing made for speeders and speeder bikes and little else—when Luke’s yellow-and-blue-painted ride settled down. He hopped out, but he wasn’t alone: with him were two robed Noghri, levering themselves from the vehicle with supreme grace.

“They found me in the surveillance centre and asked to come along,” Luke explained. “I thought we might need them.”

“It is our greatest honour to hunt down the betrayer with the Son of Vader,” one of the Noghri said solemnly. Mara squinted at the face beneath the hood. Sakhisakh, she tentatively identified him as.

“We still want him alive, right?” Mara asked somewhat wryly.

“Yes, I’ve made that point quite clear,” Luke said. He gave Mara a look as if to add _don’t worry_. The other Noghri—Barkhimkh, most likely—murmured something under his breath as Luke continued, “But you were saying something about a terminal?”

“I thought I’d check for places that might have starships for our _friend_ to steal.”

“Perhaps he will simply hide amongst the criminals in the lower levels where we will have trouble finding him. Slip down into the sewers,” Barkhimkh suggested, his tone subtly making it clear that’s where he thought Thrawn belonged.

Luke _hmmed_. “I don’t think so. I think Mara has the right idea. When I talked to him, he pressed me with his belief that we were running out of time. I think he’ll want to get off Coruscant and into Imperial space as soon as possible.”

“If that is your judgement,” Barkhimkh said. He flexed his hand just enough to flash the blade concealed in his sleeve.

Mara was of the opinion that they were wasting far too much time. With every second that passed the trail grew colder and the places Thrawn could have gone multiplied exponentially. “So we split up. One of us gets to a console, finds a list of landing pads or some good surveillance footage—” a harder task than it sounded, since she was sure no one down here wanted to be watched, “—questions some of the locals.” She turned to the Noghri. “You two have our frequency, right?”

“We acquired it some time ago.”

“Right. I’ll take the next quadrant over. Get on with it.”

The two Noghri slipped silently into the milling crowd beside them, and within a few seconds she had lost them completely. Mara heard Luke murmur “Force be with us” as she, too, melded with the crowd, making for the terminal she had spotted earlier. With luck, it would give her what she wanted with minimal illegality on her part.

If not, that would certainly be a shame.

* * *

Luke made his way through the next alley. On either side of him the slumped shapes of vagrant humans and aliens sat against the walls or on boxes and doorsteps, and piles of fetid trash let off eye-watering odours.

Eyes half closed, he concentrated his senses on the next street over. It was almost painful, the mass of thoughts and emotions that flowed and swirled like the crowds they came from. Joy and fear, anger and despair, excitement and confusion. There were so many species living down here in the depths of Coruscant that he couldn’t get even a trace of any particular one. He had resorted to scouring the mass for any hint of that odd mental ‘tingle’ he had sensed around Thrawn’s clone earlier, with no success.

His comlink chirped. He took it from his belt and answered it. “ _Hey Luke, I’ve found something_ ,” Mara’s voice filtered through. “ _It might be nothing, but there was a CSF report of a security terminal being hacked in quadrant 4864-A18 within the last ten minutes. Might be worth checking out._ ”

“On it,” Luke said, not asking how she had acquired that bit of information. He kept the channel open as he took a turn and exited the alley onto a side-street. The crowds were less dense here, one side of the little walkway opening up into a thousand metre drop to Coruscant’s darkened depths.

Focusing his thoughts on the new crowd, Luke scanned for the tingle again. He walked down the street, eyes open just enough to see where he was going and not bump into anyone as he reached out to the Force. For a moment he thought he felt a familiar flicker somewhere within the mass of buildings ahead and to the left of him, but he couldn’t get a firm grasp on it and it slipped away a moment later.

“ _Son of Vader_ ,” a gravelly Noghri voice said from his open comm. “ _We have picked up a scent. Come to quadrant 4864-A20._ ”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” If Luke was reading the signs right, 4864-A20 was close to where he had felt the sensation. He broke into a jog, dodging around twilighters as he headed down the street. A few shot him dirty looks as he passed, but he sensed no danger to suggest that they would act on their annoyance.

Luke arrived at 4864-A20 and reached out, scanning this time for Noghri minds. He detected them a moment before two figures detached from the shadows beside him and approached.

The street was fairly deserted, giving the three of them a modicum of privacy. “Thank you for your haste,” Sakhisakh said. “We picked up the betrayer’s trail along this road. It is fresh, and bloodied. We believe these houses back onto a deep canyon full of starships.” He waved a hand at the rows of doorways lining one side of the street. The other, as usual, opened into a deep pit.

Private landing bays. Luke sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Lead the way.”

The Noghri started down the street toward the upcoming intersection, stalking back and forth with their heads bowed closer to the ground. Luke said into his comlink, “Mara?”

“ _I’m on my way_ ,” her voice came back, accompanied by a high pitched mechanical whining.

Luke kept pace with the Noghri as they sped up and slowed down. He stretched out with his senses yet again, searching along their trajectory—

There! An alien mind, and an eerie, unnatural tingle. This time he got a firm hold on its location, and the sense didn’t fade. “He’s nearby,” Luke warned.

They reached the junction and turned left just in time to see a doorway slam shut a good distance down the street. Behind them Luke thought he heard the distant sound of an approaching vehicle, but he was more concerned with the frightened-looking Ithorian clinging to the railing nearby. He approached them, the two Noghri breaking off quickly and silently toward the now shut door.

“Hello,” Luke greeted the alien. “Sorry to bother you, but did someone just come past this way?”

The Ithorian thrummed out a response, the device over their mouths translating it to, “Yes. Ran right past me and started breaking into that house.” They pointed to the door the Noghri were currently examining. “I’m not here for trouble, hey. I have nothing to do with this. I was just coming home from work.”

“I’m not here for trouble either. Actually, I hope to stop it. But I need to know what they looked like,” Luke said. The approaching repulsorlift was getting louder.

“Uhh, Human-ish? They were wearing a long cloak so I couldn’t see their face, but they had red eyes, I think,” the Ithorian said, scratching at their bent neck. “Could see them glowing.”

There was a _bang_ from behind him, and Luke spun around to see that the Noghri had forced the door open; one edge of the open frame was smoking. At that moment a bright yellow speeder bike raced around the corner and came to a skidding halt beside him. Atop it was Mara. The speeder hadn’t even properly stopped yet and she was already leaping off it.

“Do what you want, I was never here!” the Ithorian said, taking off down the street.

“Where did you get that?” Luke asked. Finally, he turned off his comlink.

Mara grabbed his arm and pulled him toward where the Noghri were disappearing through the door. After the initial yank, she let go and said, “That’s not important. Don’t worry, I’ll return it later.”

So she stole it. At the moment, Luke found he didn’t care as much as he should. “As long as you do.”

They had just passed into the building when they heard a scream from deeper inside. They took off, the Noghri bounding ahead of them. Despite the level it was situated on, the halls of this apartment were surprisingly spacious and clean. The Noghri seemed to know where they were going, and led the way to what could only be described as a scene unfolding.

Near the back of the building was a guest lounge, populated by plush sofas, chairs, and a miniature dining table. Across from the entrance was another open door leading into a hallway that turned immediately to the right. One of the dining chairs was tipped over, a Rodian in pilot’s gear lying slumped on the ground near the wall behind it—unconscious or dead.

Near the far door was Thrawn. He was wearing a long, frayed and dirty cloak that hid his features, but as he turned to glance at them Luke saw him narrow his eyes.

The Noghri wasted no time. Luke had just enough time to shout “Subdue!” before they were leaping.

Barkhimkh was fastest, and so it was he who took the full brunt of the chair hurled his way, sending him off-course to crash into one of the sofas and causing Sakhisakh behind him to swerve or risk tripping. There were a few boxes on the floor at the base of the table, and Thrawn seemed to trip over one of them as he recovered from the movement, sending it skidding away. Luke could sense something strange from him, something almost like… pain?

“Surrender!” he said, his lightsaber in his hand but not ignited. “There’s still time to talk about this!”

Mara had a different idea. Luke felt the Force surge around her, fuelled by her frustration but stymied by that mental block of hers, and then out toward Thrawn. It grabbed him mid-turn and yanked him a few feet toward her, but either by accident or intent she hadn’t immobilised him and he used the momentum to swing his arm toward them. Luke caught only a glint of light on metal before the stun blast was rippling their way.

Sakhisakh ducked, and Luke and Mara leapt from its path as the rings flew past them out the door, splashing harmlessly against the corridor wall beyond. Thrawn was already making for the far corridor. From his vantage on the ground where his leap had taken him, Luke reached out instead for the door mechanism, urging it to close—

And it did, just not fully. It stopped halfway, having hit the box sitting squarely in its way.

Barkhimkh was back on his feet, knives out, baring needle teeth in a snarl. Thrawn fired two more stun shots back at him, forcing the Noghri to dodge and preventing him from following as he leapt through the gap between the doors and ducked out of sight.

Mara scrambled to her feet. “After him, dammit!”

No one had to be told twice. With a wave of his hand Luke ushered the doors all the way open again, and the four of them dashed into the far corridor. They arrived in time to see a bright red flash from the opening at the end and a loud _clang_ as the outer security doors slammed shut.

Mara already had her lightsaber out and was charging for the door, plunging the blade into the thick metal without pause. Luke winced, thinking of the Rodian they’d left in the lounge. If she still lived she wouldn’t appreciate waking up to her house in pieces, but at the moment he didn’t see that they had much choice.

Mara cut a wide oval through the metal, giving it a kick to dislodge it. It slammed down with a _bang_ onto the ground outside. Through the gap they could see a shaded docking bay with the large semicircle of a personal landing platform sticking out beyond it. They could also see the two round drive nozzles of a Corellian-style freighter.

They came online, lighting up bright blue.

Since she was closest to the door Mara was able to grab the cooling edge and hold herself in place. Luke and the Noghri, however, were blown from their feet by the ion emissions blasting forth from the freighter’s engines. Luke landed on Sakhisakh, who grunted in pain. The energy waves held them there, suspended against the wall, as the freighter rose from the landing pad and drifted forward. Luke reached for the Force to shield himself and the Noghri from the battering as it blasted away and veered upward out of sight.

With the ship gone, the onslaught ended.

Mara was able to land on her feet, staggering dizzily and shaking out her hands. Luke caught himself on one knee, and both Noghri landed crouching.

Outside, there was nothing left on the landing pad except spare parts and engine grease. It’s end looked out over a wide channel between building blocks, stuck to the wall like a barnacle among thousands of its brethren. A spattering of ships drifted up and down, their hulls lit just barely by the faintest glimmer of light from the surface. Luke looked up, squinting at the small pinprick of sky he could see far above. There was no way to figure out which one of those distant ships was the stolen freighter.

Mara came up beside him. Her hair was blown all over the place. “That was a cute trick with the box,” she said bitterly.

“It was like he knew I’d go for the door instead of him.” Luke shook his head in wonder. “How did he turn it on so fast?”

“No idea. How about we ask the former shipowner?”

They turned back toward the entrance. The Noghri were clustered together, conversing in their language, and gave Luke and Mara a glance and nod as if to say _we’ll be right with you_ as the Jedi passed by and entered through the hole in the door.

Except for the box and chairs, the lounge was mostly undisturbed. The Rodian lay in the same positon, and Luke knelt down to examine her. He could see her breathing, and concentrating with the Force felt the faint spark of an unconscious mind. “She’s alive, just stunned,” he reported.

Mara’s expression was thoughtful, if suspicious.

The Rodian stirred a minute later. She opened her large speckled eyes, blinked, and immediately cringed back at the sight of the two Humans standing over her. Luke was glad she couldn’t see the Noghri lurking just outside the door.

He knelt down, showing his hands. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly, “we’re not here to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” the Rodian asked, sitting up. Her antennae twitched nervously. “What happened? I saw a– a figure, a flash…”

“Someone broke into your house. We were chasing him, but he got away. I’m afraid your ship has been stolen and there’s some damage to your security door,” Luke explained as gently as he could. Mara was standing behind him, arms crossed, which wasn’t helping the effect.

The Rodian’s shoulders slumped. “My ship’s been stolen? Chubba! I feared something like this might happen when I moved down here. The _Nebula_ was my friend’s—what am I going to tell him?”

“We need to know more about the _Nebula_ ,” Mara cut in. Not harshly, but with a certain firmness that came with her brand of impatience. “What kind of ship was it? Did it have a beacon? Modifications?”

“A Corellian YT-1930. No mods, we only do straight shipping. As for beacons, not really, but I did have a beckon call installed last month.” She patted down her pockets, a frustrated frown on the end of her snout. “Which I’m missing.”

“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,” Luke said. “If we can get your ship back, we will, and I promise I’ll send someone to fix your doors—” both of them, since he didn’t know what the Noghri had done to the front to get it to open like that, “—but right now we have to go.”

“Alright. I’ll call the CSF, I guess…”

The four of them left the apartment, returning to the street outside and the awkwardly-parked speeder. Mara leaned on it and said, “A beckon call. He must’ve told it to start powering up before he was even out the door.” She gave Luke a look. “First rule: stun first, talk later.”

“Sorry,” was all Luke could say. He had wanted Thrawn to surrender of his own accord, but looking back it was a bit of a silly desire.

“The betrayer has eluded us, and we are standing around?” Sakhisakh said impatiently. “We must follow him to the skylanes! He must not escape!”

Mara raised an eyebrow at Luke. “Well? What’s the plan, farmboy?”

Luke knew what to do, but he was sure no one here would like it. He took a breath… “I don’t think we should follow him. We could just let him go…”

“And let him waltz right back into the Empire’s arms?” Mara said. “You want to give him a boost too?”

The Noghri were looking at him incredulously, and Luke gave a helpless shrug. “Of course not… But there’s nothing we can do. We can’t pull all YT-1930s from the skylanes without causing a massive backup, and there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to catch up to him in our own ship before he jumps to lightspeed. Besides, he didn’t try to kill us. That’s got to be a good sign.”

Mara snorted. “When it comes to Thrawn that might be a _bad_ sign. How do you intend to tell your sister about this?”

“I intend to tell her the truth. I just hope she’ll understand.”

Leia wouldn’t like it. No one would. But something at the back of his mind was still telling Luke that this was the right idea. _Everything is well_ , it assured him. He genuinely wasn’t sure if he should be listening to it or not, or how people would view him if he did.

“If you really want to take the fall like that. I’ll say now: I think it’s a terrible idea,” Mara said.

“We will guard this house until your people arrive,” Sakhisakh said. There were tones of heavy bitterness in his gravelly voice, but neither he nor Barkhimkh said anything more on the subject. They turned away without another word, melding with the shadows near the front of the apartment.

Luke could sense their anger, frustration, disappointment. _I’m sorry_ , he thought. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for them, having Thrawn of all people slip through their fingers, especially when they could so easily have stopped him. Unfortunately that stopping would have been lethal, and Luke still wanted to believe they could be allies.

He hoped the Noghri would forgive him.

Mara touched one of the speeder bike’s controls and grabbed hold of the handlebar, guiding it along beside her. “Might as well get going.” She didn’t sound happy either. “If I remember right, you wanted me to return this?”

“I’d like that, yes.”

“Hop on.”

Luke did so. He hopped onto the seat behind Mara, grabbing hold of her waist for stability as she gunned it and rocketed off down the street.


	3. Part 3

The stars outside blurred into starlines and collapsed into the frantic whirl of hyperspace. Sitting in the pilot’s chair, Thrawn leaned back and stared out at the onrushing tunnel.

They’d nearly had him. Were it not for Skywalker’s desire to keep him alive he was certain both Jade and those Noghri would have gladly and easily killed him, and he could feel his heart rate just now slowing from the intensity of that chase. The pain in his shoulder, however, was only getting worse. Throwing that chair had wrenched the wound badly, and it now sent near constant stabs of pain down his arm, the area around it growing slowly but steadily wetter.

This ship would have the medpac he needed to deal with it, but for the moment he simply sat there and recovered. The ship was in hyperspace, and unless his course took him through an interdiction field he was likely to remain safe enough.

Where he was going, however, was a problem.

He had told this ship, the _Nebula Caress_ , to take him to a little system in the Mid-Rim. He had no intent to go all the way there, of course; the jump was only to get him into hyperspace and away from Coruscant, seeing as he had no inkling as to where the Imperial fleet was currently stationed and could not go directly to them. The New Republic had been very careful about what they said around him, and while he was impressed by the depth of their caution it also left him with no lead. He knew that the Empire was small, somewhere in the Outer Rim, run by a Supreme Commander, and was about to surrender, but he knew not _where_.

He had multiple options to rectify that. He could scout out the edges of all eight Imperial sectors, for example, waste weeks investigating them himself and extrapolating their core based on supply routes and traffic.

Or he could simply acquire the information from someone who already knew it. Not an Imperial—only the Supreme Commander could know about his presence right now—but he knew of a few people who would be more than willing to give him the information he needed.

Unfortunately, getting to the right spot to acquire it would take some time; he couldn’t risk a transmission from so far within the Core lest it be tracked to its destination. He had wanted to get to work on the Empire as fast as possible, but it seemed _as fast as possible_ would still be rather slow.

Thrawn dropped the _Nebula Caress_ out of hyperspace. All around him was the endless void of deep space and the faint glittering of thousands upon thousands of distant stars. He adjusted the vessel’s course to the nearest system to Nirauan that it had in its navicomputer—Drattain, on the edge of the Outer Rim—and jumped once again to lightspeed. He would not need to go all the way to Nirauan, just close enough for a secure signal and no relays.

They would give him everything he needed.

Safely back in hyperspace, he stood up. Walking over to the atmospheric controls, he sealed the cockpit off from the rest of the ship and told it to depressurize everything save for the room he was currently in. He waited a good ten minutes and then repressurized the ship. Had anyone been hiding aboard this vessel they would be hiding no longer. Sensor scans showed no power readings from droids, beacons, or trackers, and unless he had a stowaway with a very high lung capacity and the ability to survive in vacuum he could now be suitably assured that he was alone.

With that taken care of he left in search of a medpac. It was easy enough to find, and he settled down in the lounge to deal with his shoulder.

He could tend carefully to the wound, but he couldn’t fix his tunic. A shame, but he wouldn’t be wearing it for much longer anyway so he supposed the damage didn’t matter, at least beyond the informal impression it was sure to give. Carefully taking it off, he set it on the ground beside the chair.

As he dabbed at his shoulder he thought of how much he was looking forward to reuniting with both his Empires. Casual clothes were all well and good, but there was something about a uniform that made him feel far more comfortable than any tunic ever could.

He pressed a bacta patch to the burn, but it wasn’t the sting that brought his thoughts back to the present—it was the tickle of hair against his bare collarbone, escaped from its usual place down his back. _Long_ hair.

Thrawn paused mid-movement, narrowing his eyes. The sensation brought back flashes, memories long passed. The sound of a river, hot sunlight on the rocks of a canyon, the nip of cold wind through trees. He knew full well why it reminded him of these things, and yet it still felt wrong somehow. He had only seen himself in glimpses, in the shine of metal hulls and distorted ripples on water, but he knew how it must make him look.

 _Different_.

He grasped the offending strands, thin and silky between his fingers, and pulled just enough to make his scalp ache. He would not be seen as _different_.

He quickly wrapped the patch on his shoulder to secure it, then got up and left in search of scissors.

* * *

It took several days to reach the Drattain system. The dying sun and dead planets offered nothing of worth to any prospector or cartographer, and so the _Nebula Caress_ floated completely alone. It didn’t have the powerful relays of a Star Destroyer, but what it did have was enough to get a message to Nirauan. Thrawn encrypted it with what he was sure was a painfully old code and settled down to wait.

Eventually the comm board pinged with an incoming transmission. He reached over and tapped it. Springing forth from the holoprojector was the hazy image of a young Chiss warrior. The young man said in Cheunh, “ _We seek Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You are he?_ ”

Thrawn smiled. Ah, it was good to hear his mother tongue—even more so when it was utilised in such a clever fashion. “ _I am he. I wish to speak to Admiral Parck._ ”

“ _Yes, Syndic_.”

The hologram dispersed. A moment passed, and it was replaced by the equally fuzzy image of Admiral Voss Parck. He saluted and said in Basic, “Grand Admiral, your transmission is distorted. Why have you not returned to us on Nirauan?”

“Because, Admiral, I cannot. I don’t have the time, and this ship doesn’t have the hyperspace routes that will safely guide me into the region. But first, I commend you on your reaction to my transmission.” After all, no fake would be able to speak Cheunh so fluently unless they were themselves a Chiss.

Parck inclined his head. “I am honoured by your praise, sir. We have awaited your return as you told us to, but there have been conflicting reports. Shall we send the routes to you now?”

“No. This ship is expendable and its databanks will be searched. I will not be returning to Nirauan yet, although when I do rest assured we will be able to speak in more depth. For now, all I require is the current location of Bastion and the flagship housing the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet.”

“The Imperial centre.” He nodded. “They are currently based on Sartinaynian. Supreme Commander Pellaeon is usually found aboard the ISD _Chimaera_ , I assume in the same system.”

Ah, Gilad Pellaeon. A good man and fine commander, if somewhat straightforward in his methods. If he was Supreme Commander this would go smoother than Thrawn had anticipated. “Thank you, Admiral. Goodbye for now.”

“We will await your next transmission. I look forward to your presence on Nirauan, when you decide to visit.” Parck bowed and cut the call, leaving the cockpit once again with just the dim yellow of its natural interior lighting. There was a hint of dark suspicion in his voice. He didn’t truly believe that Thrawn’s identity was genuine, and Thrawn was certain Bastion would have a clawcraft or two showing up very soon. But Parck’s suspicion, understandable as it was, would have to wait. He would get his proof in due time.

He swung the _Nebula Caress_ around and programmed a course for the Sartinaynian system. The bright tunnel swirled into place outside the viewport, and once again he was on his way.

Parck was a competent and loyal man, but Thrawn wondered for a moment about his reaction should he be told that his current Grand Admiral was a clone. The Empire of the Hand was loyal to the point of being somewhat fanatic—would the Admiral accept him, or would he stubbornly trip over technicalities?

 _I am Thrawn_ , he reminded himself. Voss Parck remained in charge for a reason, that reason being that he was not stupid. Far from it, he was intelligent and capable. Even if he was put off by it, he would quickly come around to the truth: there was no difference.

No difference at all…

* * *

_Four Days Later…_

Admiral Gilad Pellaeon gave the twittering comm on his desk the best glare he could possibly form at this early hour. Gently, and slightly reluctantly, he set his mug of caf down and answered the call.

“ _Admiral?_ ” a voice said hesitantly from the other end. “ _Major Tschel speaking. Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we have a situation…_ ”

“How much of a situation is it, Major? I’m sure you know but I’m very busy.” If the towering mountain of flimsis and reports was anything to go by.

“ _Captain Ardiff wishes your counsel on the bridge as soon as possible, Admiral. It is my understanding that it’s of some urgency_.”

“Fine. Tell him I’ll be over in a moment.” Pellaeon cut the call before Tschel had a chance to respond. He stood, paused to glance at the stack of datacards piled neatly on one corner of his desk. Datawork and more datawork. Making sure everything was in place for the summit was an incredible amount of work, and on top of it all he’d had to deal with the ramifications of Moff Disra’s arrest and inquiries from the worlds he’d affected. The fist-waving and hair-ripping.

It was giving him a headache.

He shook his head. With one last mournful look at his cup of caf, he left the room.

When he arrived on the bridge it was to the early-morning flow of business as usual. Beyond the viewports the planet Bastion could be seen. It hung to one side, a brilliant arc of sunlight illuminating its edge and backlighting the scattering of starships stationed in orbit.

Out the front, however…

Captain Ardiff was standing stiffly over by the comms. He looked up as Pellaeon entered, his lips thinned and eyes narrowed. “I apologise for the interruption, Admiral. But as you can see…” he said as Pellaeon joined him in the crew pit, waving an arm harshly toward the magnified image of a ship floating just outside.

It looked to be just a simple light freighter: Corellian, most likely, and not particularly new if its paint job was anything to go by.

“I see the freighter,” Pellaeon said. “How does it relate to us?”

“Normally it wouldn’t. Its transponder ID identifies it as the _Nebula Caress_ , and we have it in a tractor lock. But it transmitted this message…”

At Pellaeon’s signal to go ahead, he replayed it: “ _Imperial Star Destroyer_ Chimaera _, this is light freighter_ Nebula Caress _. It is my understanding that you have the Supreme Commander aboard, and I respectfully request an audience._ ”

Pellaeon felt a shiver claw its way down his spine, and he hoped no one could hear his small intake of breath. _I know that voice…_

“Have you responded?” he asked stiffly, cursing his reaction. Of all the blasted...

“No, sir,” Ardiff said. “I thought it… above my authority.” He paused. “Sir—”

“Bring it into our docking bay. I will deal with this,” Pellaeon said darkly. His shock had melted into cold anger. There was no way that was Thrawn out there, and he was sick and damn tired of people using his image to further their own agendas. Whoever it was, they would get no mercy from him.

The freighter looked even sorrier parked in one of the _Chimaera_ ’s huge docking bays, large and battered among the rows of clean starfighters and dirty in comparison to the spotless black flooring.

Its owner stood a little ways in past the bottom of the landing ramp, surrounded by a ring of unsure army troops, their blaster rifles not raised but not quite _down_ either. Certainly, he looked like Thrawn, and sounded like him. He was looking around in a very Thrawn-like manner.

But Flim had done all those things and more, and Pellaeon refused to be led around by the nose.

He stalked right up to the ring of troopers, jabbed a black-gloved finger at this _impostor_ , and growled, “ _Seize him!_ ”

But they were simple army troops. They froze, moving their rifles as if they wanted to comply but couldn’t. “But, sir…” one of them ventured.

“That is an order, soldier. Obey it.”

Slowly, very slowly, the ring of troopers complied. The impostor continued to stare at Pellaeon as they secured his wrists in binders behind his back, skimmed him gingerly for weapons. His gaze was calm, almost curious.

“You will be taken to medical for a complete DNA evaluation,” Pellaeon explained coldly. “And you’ll find that the facilities on this warship are not so easily fooled.” Certainly not now that the damage Disra and his cronies had done to the Imperial archives had been repaired. “Your ship will likewise be searched.”

“Then I should inform you that this vessel does not belong to me,” the impostor said. He still sounded eerily like Thrawn, even more so now that his voice was not distorted by a comms device. “Anything you find aboard it or in its logs does not match my background. I will, of course, comply with your evaluation.”

“You will remain silent!” Pellaeon snapped. He motioned for the troops to follow and set away.

They continued in formation through the corridors of the _Chimaera_. The crewers and officers they passed paused at their tasks or at their posts, and Pellaeon was very disappointed with the frequency of second glances. He’d hoped the crew would be better trained, but then again it wasn’t like they had much choice in conscripts these days. No one wants to join a dying empire…

They arrived at the medbay in short order. Pellaeon ordered the guards to wait outside and ushered this impostor inside, following him in. The chief medic, stationed at a console opposite to the neat row of beds, looked to come close to dropping his datapad in surprise.

Pellaeon placed a hand in the middle of the impostor’s back and pushed him forward. “This man is to be given a full DNA check immediately.”

The medic’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He gestured for the impostor to take a seat on one of the beds, and he did so without protest or even a stutter in his step.

Pellaeon remained where he was, arms crossed, and watched as the medic extracted a skin sample from his lower forearm and took it over to the console opposite. The impostor, for his part, merely clasped his hands in his lap and waited. He looked unworried, which was odd since he surely knew that he had no chance of escape. Who or whatever he was, he was trapped, and yet he looked perfectly content.

It gave Pellaeon a bad feeling.

The medic finished a few minutes later. He walked over to Pellaeon, looking ashen. “Sir,” he whispered with a glance to the side. “It’s a perfect match—99.99 percent accounting for genetic drift, definitely alien. There are no inconsistencies that our instruments can detect.”

That couldn’t be right, and he said so. “Run another check with a different sample. Make sure to cross-reference it through the database planetside.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It will change nothing,” the impostor warned them, still sitting with his hands in his lap.

Pellaeon didn’t respond—he didn’t trust himself to say anything. He was beginning to get the feeling he’d made a terrible mistake. He consoled himself with the possibility that this man, whoever he was, may have had help, could have fouled up their analysis again. Never mind the egregious security breach that would imply. Against all logic he almost _wanted_ that to be the case.

Once again the medic returned, looking if possible even paler than before. “The Bastion medcenter agrees with our databanks, sir. He is identical to what we have on record of Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

Pellaeon was feeling rather pale himself. He swallowed, looked to where their guest was sitting.

He was staring at them.

Pellaeon couldn’t believe this, he couldn’t. _He couldn’t_. Thrawn was dead, gone, there was no way this man could be him. He looked back to the medic. “Return to your duties.”

The medic inclined his head in acknowledgement and returned to his station. He reacquired his datapad, but spent equal amounts of time looking at it as he did at them.

Their guest rose slowly, and Pellaeon made no attempt to stop him. He did say, “I may be willing to entertain the idea that you are Thrawn. But medical scans alone will not convince me.”

“Then I will provide whatever will. May we speak privately?”

Pellaeon was about to suggest exactly that. He glanced at the medic. If he remembered correctly there was a string of storage rooms nearby that would provide adequate privacy. He beckoned for their guest to follow. The guards were still waiting dutifully outside, and he only hesitated for a moment before dismissing them.

His companion walked with his hands clasped behind his back. “Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral,” he said, speaking in low tones. “I am certain you have earned the position of Supreme Commander.”

Pellaeon wasn’t sure how to take that. “You speak as if you disapprove.”

“Not at all. I merely lack any knowledge of how you came to be at such a rank. I assure you my congratulations are genuine.”

If this man was who he claimed, that didn’t sound at all right. “The details are fairly common knowledge.”

“I’m sure, but I have had no chance to acquire the information.” He glanced over and added, “I will explain soon.”

“I certainly hope so,” Pellaeon said, unable to keep the dark hint from his voice.

By the time they arrived he was feeling tense again. They stopped at the first door in a row of six, and at his prompting it slid open. He ushered his guest inside.

When the door had shut behind them, he turned and glared at this man—this impostor, or whatever he was—met that glowing red gaze evenly as if ten years hadn’t passed.

“You are not Thrawn,” Pellaeon said, attempting to disguise the waver in his voice. An officer of the Imperial Navy should never be anything but smooth and precise. At least that’s what he told himself. “He died. I _watched_ him die with my own eyes. There is no way in any galaxy you could be him; tell me who you really are or you’ll spend the rest of your life in the brig of my ship.”

“Perhaps Thrawn did die, perhaps you watched it. I can understand how viewing such a thing would give you trouble believing me. But your instruments do not lie—I am as close to Thrawn as any living being in this galaxy will ever be.”

“Explain.”

“I am his clone,” the man said simply. “I was grown on a planet far from here. I have his body, his mind, his memories. In essence, I am identical.”

“A clone…” Pellaeon murmured. It made an annoying amount of sense. He stared at this ‘clone,’ but his eyes, old and tired, saw no imperfections that their machines had missed. “I assume you can prove that?”

“Indeed. Ask your questions.”

Pellaeon had already formulated one. The memory leapt into his mind, sharp despite its age, something he was certain no one but Thrawn could ever know. “You called me into your command room shortly after the battle at New Cov. When I arrived you were looking at some holograms. What were they of?”

His guest looked at the wall, thinking. “If you are referring to what I believe you are, they were Corellian Flame Miniatures. Fourteen subtly different models, all holographic.”

“That’s correct,” Pellaeon said, reluctantly—almost as reluctantly as he felt the small spark of hope that ignited in his chest. But he wasn’t done yet. “While we were hunting the Jedi Luke Skywalker and his sister, you showed me footage taken by a probe in the Nkllon system. What happened in it?”

Another moment of thought. “I observed the exchange of passengers between the light freighter _Millennium Falcon_ and the space yacht _Lady Luck_. I deducted that the Wookiee Chewbacca and Leia Organa Solo had passed onto the yacht, and that her husband, their droid, and Lando Calrissian remained aboard the _Falcon_.”

“That is correct.” He couldn’t help but be impressed. “During the Mount Tantiss campaign, Luke Skywalker escaped from us twice. What exactly happened to the tractor beam operators who allowed it to happen?”

Again, his guest paused to think. “I had Rukh execute the first for his poor adaptability. The second showed great promise. I promoted him to Lieutenant with his assurances that he would find a way to counter a covert shroud.”

That wasn’t a very strong one, Pellaeon would admit silently. A great number of Imperial officers aboard the _Chimaera_ had been present for it, after all. Yet the details weren’t common knowledge, not in such depth…

He thought hard, very hard, but there was no longer anything to prevent him from believing that he was really, truly, standing before an authentic clone of Grand Admiral Thrawn. No spy could know such things, in such detail… Unless his own memory was failing him.

But he knew it wasn’t. “Why now? Why come to us now?”

“The timespan was optimal to ensure that nothing went wrong, and that I returned in a state to resume my duty. Regrettable, I’m aware, but necessary.”

“ _Necessary?_ ” Pellaeon felt his hands curling into fists. Something terrible crept beneath his breast at the words, corrupting the spark of hope into seed of terrible, cold anger.

It was too much. “Blast it! Do you see what we _are?_ ” He growled, waving an arm in the general direction he assumed Bastion to be. “We needed you nine years ago! Ten! We are not an Empire anymore. We have barely a fleet, and eight sectors of galactic slime to call home. Perhaps you simply haven’t noticed, but you have no duty to resume anymore.” And those eight sectors, he knew, were dwindling. “I’m surrendering us to the damn New Republic! And you return _now?_ ”

Thrawn remained unflappable in the dim lighting of the small compartment. “The loss of the Empire is regrettable, as is the loss of galactic order it imposed. However all is not lost by far. Once the treaty has been signed we may rebuild. Perhaps together with the New Republic, should they overcome their _issues_ , stability will be restored. And I will assist with everything I have at my disposal—here, or elsewhere. That is the duty of which I speak, to the greater galaxy.”

Pellaeon could barely believe what he was hearing. “Then you care not for the Empire?”

“The Empire had power and structure. Were it up to me, it would rise once more. Indeed, I had a duty to it. You could say I cared for it. But there has always been more at stake than one single government,” Thrawn said calmly. “You do not understand the things to come, what we will have to face. The Empire alone will not be able to rebuild in time, certainly not if it insists on sulking in the shadows. Only united as a single front will the galaxy survive—whether you like it or not, we are all in this together.”

Pellaeon was beginning to wonder if this clone’s tank was faulty. “What are you _talking_ about? What are we ‘facing?’”

“I will tell you soon. For now, know only that I speak the truth.”

 _The truth? What truth?_ Pellaeon stared at Thrawn and felt his brow furrow—for him to come back, only to start speaking of things like this? Of alliances and urgency and, yes, treason? He didn’t know how to feel. This man was a clone, and Pellaeon wondered if the real Thrawn would be saying the same things were he here right now…

Maybe. Maybe not.

“I see you don’t believe me,” Thrawn said. Reaching out a hand, he placed it on Pellaeon’s shoulder. To his own surprise he didn’t shrug it off. “Even so, you must trust me. There are darker things on the horizon. Soon I will present to you proof of what I say, and a force to help us combat it. But for now you must let me speak with the New Republic.”

“You speak treason, and ask me to trust you?” He sighed, just audibly. It felt as if Thrawn’s touch had removed ten years from his shoulders, and he longed to be back in that time, to stand at his side and have things go differently.

But they hadn’t.

As much as he didn’t want to, Pellaeon knew somewhere in his heart that Thrawn was right. “I am at your disposal.”

“Good. I understand how you feel, but I hope that, with time, you will think differently of me.” Thrawn let his hand fall away, tucking it out of sight with the other behind his back. “Now, escort me to the comms centre.”

 _Yes, sir_ , Pellaeon very nearly said, and cursed the words for daring to come so close to his lips. He said instead, “This way.”

Together they left the room.

* * *

They were in the senate conference room when the call came in.

“Straight from Bastion, Senator,” the comms officer said, a floating head and shoulders above the round table’s built-in holoprojector. “Encrypted with one of ours.”

The three of them were arrayed around the table, the only occupants in the room at such a late hour. Leia passed Luke a significant look. He turned his head to find Mara giving him the same thing. “Should we call President Gavrisom?” he asked.

“Make a recording, but let it through now,” Leia said. Her tone indicated that she, as well as everyone else in the room, knew who it was they were being hailed by.

The comms officer nodded an affirmative and disappeared. A beat passed in which there was total and utter silence, and then the holoprojector flared back to life, bringing with it a one-fifth scale hologram of their escaped convict.

Thrawn inclined his head politely. “Thank you for accepting my communication,” he said, his voice distorted by the encrypt/decrypt process.

“What do you want?” Leia asked, bracing her hands on the table in front of her to better stare at him.

“At the moment, nothing. I merely wish to extend my deepest apologies for the actions taken in my escape, especially to your Wing Commander Antilles. Know that I desire no hostilities between us.”

“Yet you blew up that ship, damaged buildings and personnel,” Mara interjected. “Three people died. You consider that ‘no hostilities?’”

Thrawn turned to her. “The incident was regrettable. I apologise for my deception, but I was given no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I will not sit idly by while a senate decides my fate, not when there are far better uses of my time.”

“Is ‘no hard feelings’ all you called for? If so, we have a government to run and I’d like to get back to it,” Leia said.

“It is, and to say that you needn’t worry about the summit. I have no intent to interfere with the Empire’s surrender,” Thrawn said. It could have been a trick of the static, but there was almost a smile to his lips. “I hope we can overcome our grievances in the future. For now, farewell.”

“Right.”

The hologram disappeared with a burst of static. The three of them stared at the spot where it had been, and for a few seconds there was silence.

Luke was the first to say it: “Do you think he’s lying?”

“Who knows,” Leia said dryly. “I hate to say it, but there’s nothing we can do about it anymore.”

That there wasn’t. A thought occurred to Luke. “Mara?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you been in touch with Karrde since we got back? If he has contacts within the Empire’s borders we might be able to pay for information regarding whether or not Thrawn’s real return has been leaked to the Imperial populace.”

Mara raised her eyebrows. “Funny you should ask. Karrde just contacted me asking if I was on board with almost exactly that. He didn’t say much, but I hear he’s got big plans for both the Empire and your New Republic.”

“ _And_ the New Republic?” Leia prompted.

“Like I said, he didn’t say much. It’s supposed to be something to assure both sides that the other isn’t trying anything sneaky. Karrde will contact you with the full details when he has them—and the full price, which you know won’t be cheap.”

“Then we’ll be standing by to receive them,” Leia said. “Even if the council isn’t, I’m willing to pay whatever price he sets. Anything to ensure that Thrawn isn’t going to ruin it all.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.” Mara gave a nod to Luke and started for the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked, turning to track her movements as she crossed the room.

She stopped at the door. “I have a call to make. Besides, I think this meeting’s over.” With that, she left for the corridor outside.

With a glance at the now dark holoprojector Luke said, “Looks like it…”

* * *

Looking pleased for some strange reason, Thrawn stepped back off the transmission grid.

“That wasn’t much of a conference,” Pellaeon commented.

Thrawn turned to him. “There was no need for it to be. For now all we need to do is curb any rash decisions the New Republic might be inclined to make. Giving Councillor Organa Solo my assurances that I mean her government no harm will go far when it comes to both preventing such hostilities and brokering a future alliance. And if my information is not too outdated, she holds some sway within their government.”

“It’s not particularly outdated, no.”

“Good. I will, of course, require your assistance in making sure no word of my presence here reaches the rest of the Empire.”

Pellaeon felt his brows knit together. “I would have thought you’d want to get back to work as soon as possible.”

“I very much do. But announcing my presence to the Empire right now will do nothing but create confusion. Those who believe me will be hard for you to control, and those who don’t will view you as if you were using my image to gain their ear. Either way it will create chaos we cannot afford right now.” He looked thoughtful. “No. Information on the internal status of the _Chimaera_ must not reach the rest of the Empire. Neither must any crewmember leave the vessel until it can be assured there will be no gossip.”

“That makes sense,” Pellaeon said, attempting to figure out how he could possibly accomplish such a task. As he did, something else occurred to him. “It may not be my place to mention it, but there is an issue in the matter of your identity…”

“The issue being that I am a clone?”

“Yes. There are a few influential people within the Empire who take offense to such things.” There was something in Thrawn’s eyes that told him not to continue, but Pellaeon had to. “If it is decided that you’re not really Thrawn your predecessor’s status as a grand admiral may not be honoured.”

“There is no difference between us, not mentally, physically, or genetically. And if these issues arise I’m certain you will make that fact clear to the dissidents.”

Pellaeon inclined his head. “I will.”

“Good—I can do little within the Empire if I am not obeyed.” He paused, and there was a moment of silence as he observed the holoprojector. “Now, I believe I promised you some proof?”

“Of these dark things you say are on the horizon, yes.” Pellaeon winced internally at the harsh tint to the words. He knew he shouldn’t be speaking like that to a superior. Then again, he was Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet. Was Thrawn still his superior, even as a grand admiral?

Or was Pellaeon Supreme Commander no longer?

“Of that. It’s come to my attention that you had some recent problems with false rumours of my return. Tell me: have you received any strange transmissions or messages?”

The look on Pellaeon’s face likely told him everything he needed to know, but he said anyway, “As a matter of fact, yes, there was one. I’ve not acted on it. As you can imagine, I’ve been rather busy.”

“Play it for me.”

The datacard was on his desk, but if Pellaeon recalled correctly there was a backup in the _Chimaera’s_ databanks. Taking one of the code cylinders from its pocket he inserted it into the side of the holoprojector and accessed the file.

The crisp image of an older Human man, with white hair and a lined face, appeared in the air above the projector. He wore the grey-green uniform of an Imperial admiral and stood stiff yet regal. He said, “My name is Admiral Voss Parck. I serve the Empire of the Hand, and seek news about the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn. We have watched from a distance, and now we seek to speak with the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet. If you are receiving this, Admiral Pellaeon, we can be contacted through the frequency given to you alongside this transmission. We request you also use the provided encryption. We will stand by for your response.”

Pellaeon caught it before it looped, pausing the Admiral before he could open his mouth again.

“Now, I believe, would be a good time to respond to that message,” Thrawn said quietly.

“I know that man,” Pellaeon mused, doing as he was asked. “It has been decades since I last spoke to him. I take it he still works for you?”

“Indeed. But he can tell you about it himself.”

Pellaeon tuned the holoprojector to the given frequency and set it to encrypt with the given codes. The paused image vanished back into the depths of the _Chimaera’s_ databanks, and for a full minute there was silence. A little yellow light blinked on the edge of the comm…

It flared back to life with an image of the very same man—at least, as far as Pellaeon could tell. The image was heavily distorted, grainy and losing pixels this way and that. The image held up a finger in a gesture for them to wait and said something to someone beyond the display. It was almost unintelligible, but it sounded a bit like, “—just through the edge.”

Abruptly the image stabilised, and the Admiral smiled. “Sorry for that. It seems the High Tower was not high enough.” He bowed. “I’m glad that you finally responded, Supreme Commander. And Grand Admiral, it is good to see you arrived safely.”

Thrawn gave him a slow nod. There seemed to be some kind of silent exchange happening between them, but Pellaeon couldn’t work out what it was supposed to be conveying. He waited until it was over before saying, “I’m afraid your transmission was on the lower end of my priority list. If you’ve indeed been watching us, I’m sure you understand.”

“I understand completely,” Parck said, no annoyance in his voice that Pellaeon could detect. “But to say we’ve been _watching_ you is an error on my part. We have no cameras or listening devices. It’s more that we’ve been… idly observing the galaxy outside our borders, and a certain rumour came to our attention that we decided to act on. We sent out a few probes, one to your own Bastion to deliver my message. This was, of course, before we realised the true nature of the situation.”

There were many things in there to comment on, but the biggest one on Pellaeon’s mind was, “And how did you know where to find us?”

Parck looked at Thrawn, who said simply, “Tell him.”

“There is a dummy file in the Imperial Records Library affixed with a tracking device. When in hyperspace, it activates and sends us your destination. It activated last when the database was moved to Sartinaynian.”

“We would have detected such a signal,” Pellaeon said.

“You can only detect what you are looking for. In this case the tracker is Chiss technology, and I don’t believe it’s protocol to do sensor sweeps while in hyperspace,” Thrawn pointed out. “Do not blame Admiral Parck: the idea was purely mine.”

“Very well,” Pellaeon rumbled. He didn’t like that at all, but in this case he was prepared to let it slide. He addressed the hologram. “You called for information on the Grand Admiral’s return, and I must tell you that what you heard was a deception.”

“We had gathered as much. What was the nature of the deception?” Parck asked.

“One of our moffs was working in conjunction with a royal guardsman. They illegally used a con man to create a false image of the Grand Admiral, which they toted around New Republic space. I was able to uncover the truth and put an end to it,” Pellaeon explained. “This time, however, I’m convinced it’s real.”

And, blast it, he was. He really was.

“As are we. Mara Jade attempted to convince us that Thrawn had truly died over Bilbringi, and yet as promised here you stand, Grand Admiral, very much alive.”

Pellaeon looked at Thrawn. _You didn’t tell him_ , he realised. Parck didn’t _know_.

Thrawn turned his head ever so slightly toward him, and he caught the look of deadly warning there. “The timing of the deception was unfortunate. As such, I am forced to remain hidden from the Empire at large.”

“That _is_ an unfortunate circumstance, to be sure. Should you need us, the Empire of the Hand stands ready to assist. Which brings me to my next point…” Parck waited until he had received another nod from Thrawn before continuing, “We have at our disposal a fleet of our own. We also have at our disposal the database known as the Hand of Thrawn. Every ship schematic, planetary dispute report, hyperspace route, and biological record—every scrap of knowledge ever known to the galaxy at large is contained within. Politics, warfare, art and architecture, cartography, personnel. Both we offer to the Empire.”

“In exchange for...?” Pellaeon prompted. There was no way such a tantalising offer was being made without some kind of complication.

But Parck just said, “Nothing. We extend our support free of charge in the hope that our Empires can be allies in the coming days.”

“Tell him about the Far Outsiders,” Thrawn said.

Parck’s courteously friendly attitude melted away into a mask of seriousness. “They are what we call the alien fleet of shadowy ships amassing at the edge of the galaxy. They have been probing our defences for over fifty years, and we believe soon they will descend. We have gathered everything we have on them, and we know for certain they will be a force unlike anything the galaxy has yet faced.”

“I had heard that you and Thrawn were exiled to the far edge of the Outer Rim for a political mishap back in the old days of the Empire. I take it you were sent out there deliberately to stake out this threat?” Pellaeon said. He wasn’t certain if he was being strung along or not. Could a threat that deadly truly exist?

“Exile was certainly the cover story. Yes, we were sent out deliberately on a mission from the Emperor. We were given the building blocks, and from them not only did we stake out the threat, but we began building a force to defend against it.”

“The Hand is my greatest creation,” Thrawn said, a faint hint of pride in his voice. It darkened fast. “But it will not be enough. Not the database, and not its Empire.” He turned fully to Pellaeon, his red eyes burning with a new intensity. “That is why we must all work together. If not, divided we will die.”

Pellaeon stared back, and understood then that this was no deception. There was something in those eyes, a seriousness that could not be faked, not even by someone like Thrawn.

With a jolt he realised it was fear.

“I will be glad to tell you more, Admiral. Perhaps we may even meet in person someday,” Parck broke in, his friendly civility returning fast enough not to be entirely genuine.

Pellaeon turned back to the hologram. “Perhaps. But right now I have vital business to attend to. I cannot put the Empire on hold, not even for such a generous offer. Later maybe we will speak again—I will admit you have me intrigued.”

“Then I have succeeded in my mission.” He looked to Thrawn. “Sir, will you be travelling to Nirauan soon?”

“I intend to. You have concerns?” Thrawn asked.

“Yes. There is a vital security concern I don’t believe can wait until you arrive. One of our clawcraft has been stolen and we have been unable to locate its whereabouts save for that it is somewhere within the Core. While you are out there, perhaps you would be able to find out where it has been taken.”

“There’s no need for concern, Admiral. I know about the theft, and it has already been taken care of. The clawcraft is irretrievable, both to them and to us.”

Parck didn’t even look surprised. “That’s good to hear. The Commander and his warriors will be relieved, for certain. The thought of Chiss technology in alien hands…”

“Is unacceptable,” Thrawn finished for him. “Before you leave, Admiral, send over a copy of the file _rast’k_ -aurek.”

“Black-aurek?” Parck hesitated. “Sir… you have said many things to convince me of your identity—it is almost undeniable—but we have yet to confirm it in person and black-aurek is an extremely sensitive file.”

Pellaeon drew in an indignant breath, but Thrawn made a small, harsh motion with his hand and the words fizzled unsaid. He clearly needed no one to defend him.

“I understand that,” Thrawn said. “But consider for a moment that the Hand already intends to offer its services to the Empire. Were I nothing but a fraud, what would I hope to gain now that I would not get in the future simply by waiting? The relays between us are all Imperial-controlled, and Admiral Pellaeon here would stop any attempt of mine to leak the file to co-conspirators via his vessel.”

 _I most certainly would_ , Pellaeon thought. But no matter his faith in the _Chimaera’s_ security, such boasting would have no use right now and so he kept his mouth shut.

Parck considered that logic. “You bring up a good point. I suppose I’m willing to risk sending black-aurek… If you believe the channel is secure.”

“I believe it is secure enough.”

Parck nodded. “One moment.” He stepped out of the transmitter’s range, leaving it to emit nothing but a cone of hazy blue light. Pellaeon could hear him speaking to someone, but the voices were too muffled for him to make out what was being said. A moment later Parck returned. “The file is being sent over now. If I may, I will go prepare.”

A light flashed on the side of the projector. Suddenly the image split, Parck on one side and the blurred outline of a ship on the other. The outline flipped to another, and another. They were like nothing Pellaeon had ever seen.

“You may go,” Thrawn confirmed. “Oh, and Admiral? I hope I will have a safe spot to land once I arrive. Dismissed.”

Parck’s lips thinned. There was brief look of chagrin on his face. “Yes, sir,” he said, his image cutting out and leaving only the cycling projections of those alien ships.

Thrawn gazed at them, the blue light clashing with the natural red of his eyes. He stepped over to the projector, and the holograms abruptly cut out as he transferred them onto a datacard, which he turned and offered to Pellaeon. “My proof to you, Admiral,” he said. “Keep it safe. I am entrusting this information _only_ to you.”

“You have my word that I will keep it an absolute secret,” Pellaeon said. He took the card, finding that Thrawn’s fingers felt just as cold as their icy appearance would imply.

“One more thing,” Thrawn began. “I know you are eager to return to your duties and I won’t keep you from them. However, I must express how proud I am that you would be the one to rise to the station of Supreme Commander. I was pleased to hear that you were opening negotiations with the New Republic. Of all the admirals and moffs, you alone had the sense to do so.”

Pellaeon blinked. “Sir…?”

Thrawn smiled. It was not to intimidate or out of cold satisfaction, but rather completely genuine. “You were always promising, Gilad, and you’ve done well. It pains me that my return will strip you of the title you rightfully earned, but know that I don’t do so because I don’t believe you are fit for the position. Far from it; one day perhaps we will run the Empire together.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Pellaeon managed. This was not at all what he’d been expecting. It was vindicating to know that the fabrications of his mind during that long wait at Pesitiin were just that—fabrications. False.

“I do.” The smile faded, and again he was just business. “Adding to your duties, I require a list of all capital ships in active Imperial service. In the future I’ll be able to acquire such information myself, but for now I rely on you.”

 _Why?_ Pellaeon wanted to ask. But all he said was, “Any specific requirements?”

“Ships with capabilities similar to, or greater than, that of an _Imperial_ -class Star Destroyer. A suitably large dreadnaught will also suffice.”

Quite suddenly Pellaeon understood. A small, cold doubt crept up beneath his breastbone. “You will not be staying aboard the _Chimaera_.”

“If I did you would have a captain, an admiral, and a grand admiral all aboard one vessel, which as I’m certain you can imagine would prove cumbersome. The other option would be for me to evict you and have you find another command ship.” Thrawn shook his head. “The _Chimaera_ is yours. You were her captain, and you are her admiral. I am capable of finding my own vessel.”

“I will draw up a list as soon as I’m able.” Once again Pellaeon felt embarrassed by his own doubts. His doubts, and his earlier prickliness. He sighed. “Sir… I apologise for accusing you of treason. It was not my place.”

“Apology accepted, Admiral.” Thrawn placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the door. “Now, I believe you have some things to see to.”

“That I do.”

Thrawn’s expression was once again an impassive visage. He may be a clone, Pellaeon mused, but the word ‘just’ would never apply to him. He found, here and now as he was urged from the room, that he did agree: there was no difference between the Thrawn standing beside him and the Thrawn that had died over Bilbringi. And if this clone took the title of Supreme Commander from him? That was fine with him.

As they exited into the corridor, Pellaeon felt a smile creep across his face.

* * *

The distant Coruscanti sun was setting brilliant and orange behind the endless forest of skyscrapers when Luke arrived on the landing platform.

The tiny shapes of hundreds of flying craft crisscrossed behind the looming bulk of the _Wild Karrde_ , its long shadow quickly swallowing him up as he approached. Mara stood half-lit at the base of the landing ramp, leaning back against one of the struts with a datapad in her hand. She lowered it and looked up as he approached.

“So you’re off?” Luke asked as he came within range.

“There’s a lot happening out there, I’d never miss it,” Mara replied, hooking the ‘pad to her belt and letting it dangle there. “Karrde’s already greasing the gears for those big plans of his. Who else’s going to help him?”

She gave him a half-smile to show she was joking.

“It was good to work with you, Mara,” Luke said. He offered her a hand, and she clasped it firmly. “I’m sorry for all of this. You were right, he was trouble.”

“Hindsight’s great, isn’t it?” She let her hand fall away. “Don’t worry too much about it. We all want to believe we’re doing the right thing.”

“Even you?” he prodded gently.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Turning, she placed a hand on the strut and looked over her shoulder. “Looks like I’ll see you around, farmboy.”

“May the Force be with you,” Luke said as she ascended the ramp and disappeared into the cool darkness inside.

Several minutes later, standing a respectable distance away, he watched the ship take off. It shrunk until it was just another dot among thousands against the darkening sky. Without binocs he couldn’t be exactly sure when it happened, but he imagined them jumping to lightspeed not long after.

Mara had her problems, and he had his. But Luke knew in his very soul that they would work together like this again.

_Good luck._

Then he turned and went back inside.

[The End]


End file.
